The Gift And The Curse
by Flaming Trails
Summary: BTTFxSpiderMan Crossover. Sequel to Eight Arms To Hold You. When OckDoc decides to finally have his eyes fixed in the future, Marty and Jennifer tag along. But what was supposed to be a simple trip quickly turns into a nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

The Gift and the Curse

A BTTF/Spider-Man Idea Crossover

By Flaming Trails

Chapter 1

Monday, May 12th, 1986

Hill Valley

6:33 A.M.

"And if you buy now, we'll throw in this _free_ travel bag!"

"I don't want a travel bag!"

Doc blinked, startled by the sound of his own voice, then pulled himself back to consciousness. _Stupid commercials, _he thought, one hand fumbling for the knob on his radio. _I was having such a nice dream, too. . . ._

There was a soft click from his back. Then something reached out past his hand and turned the radio off for him. _**Good morning, Father,**_ Jules's voice greeted him.

Doc smiled drowsily. "Morning, kids," he said, flipping himself over and sitting up. "Anything happen last night?"

_**Nothing of interest. Did you sleep well?**_

"Pretty well, yes." Doc cautiously opened his eyes a crack. Pale sunshine streamed through his window – not too bright for most people, but murder on his damaged retinas. Doc squeezed his eyelids shut again and reached for his sunglasses.

Only to find them missing. He groaned loudly. "Great Scott, not again!"

_**You've misplaced them,**_ the tentacles chorused, sounding as annoyed as he felt.

_**Really, Father, this is the third time this week,**_ Jules added scoldingly.

"I know, I know." Doc sighed. "You kids mind?"

Four different camera views of his garage house appeared, tinted in red. "Thanks." Doc allowed himself a moment to acclimate, then got up and began searching.

They eventually found the sunglasses left on top of the new pet dish prototype Doc was designing. Verne picked them up and handed them over. _**We really must remember to stop leaving them at the work bench.**_

"I know," Doc said again, slipping them on. The tentacles reduced their camera input as he opened his own eyes. "At least we found them quickly this time. Remember last month, when we had to tear up the whole garage?"

The tentacles gave a small shudder. _**Not fun.**_

With Doc now properly sighted, they headed into the bathroom to start their day. Doc glanced into the mirror as he prepared for his shower. A 65-year-old man with four sentient tentacles welded to his back stared back at him. Doc chuckled softly. _Hard to believe that, just a few months ago, I was just an ordinary man who lived alone and liked to experiment. Now I've got four kids attached to me and the local nickname of Dr. Octopus._

_**At least people have stopped staring at us,** _Albert said, watching Doc's reflection.

_Either that or they've become really good at hiding it. Either way, it appears people might actually be getting used to us. Never thought _that_ would ever happen._ Smiling to himself, Doc got into the shower.

After a good scrub-down and a shave, he went to see about a shirt and pants. Jules cautiously came up behind him as he browsed. _**Father?**_

_Yes?_

_**We've been discussing matters, and – we really think you ought to see someone about having your eyes fixed.**_

_**You keep misplacing your glasses,**_ Tommy piped up. _**What happens if we can't find them one day?**_

_**We already came close last month,** _Albert agreed. _**And you've complained multiple times about juggling the glasses and goggles during experimentation.**_

_**We know you don't like to rely on future technology too much for fear of someone discovering the time machine,**_ Verne said. _**But this is for your health's sake.**_

Doc looked back at the tentacles. Their clawed heads waited expectantly. He sighed. "You're probably right," he admitted, pulling on a yellow shirt with cowboy images. The tentacles slipped easily through the holes in the back. "I have been considering it a lot more often lately."

_**So why not just do it?**_ Albert asked.

"A few concerns about explaining my new 20/20 vision to my doctor, and how exactly I'm going to wedge myself into the DeLorean."

The tentacles squeaked. _**Oh. I must have left that part out of my calculations**,_ Jules admitted.

**_Surely there must be _some_ way to make us all fit,_** Tommy said.

"We probably could squeeze ourselves in, but I suspect it would be extremely uncomfortable. To make us all fit properly, I'd have to replace the driver's seat – or even possibly rebuild the whole car for more interior space."

_**We could do that!**_ Tommy replied, sounding eager to start on a new project.

_**Tommy, we don't know that for sure,**_ Jules cautioned. _**Father knows a fair bit about automobile mechanics, but completely rebuilding a DeLorean?**_

_**We could do something about the seat though, right?**_ Tommy persisted. _**Go to some mechanic in the future and explain our issue?**_

Doc paused in getting his toast. _Maybe. . . . Hell, I could talk to a mechanic in _this_ time period about doing that. It shouldn't be too hard._ _And maybe we could keep the rebuilding idea on the back burner, just in case. More passenger room in that thing _would _be useful._

_**Let's start with the seat and work our way up from there,**_ Albert said. _**Rebuilding the entire car sounds like more trouble than it's worth.**_

_Yes, good point. Let's finish breakfast, then we'll visit Texaco._

Monday, May 12th

3:24 P.M.

"Hey, Doc? Kids?"

Doc flipped up his torch cutter mask. "In here, Marty!"

Marty and Jennifer followed Doc's voice over to the section of the garage Doc actually used as a garage. He and the tentacles were bent over one of the DeLorean's car seats, cutting holes into the frame. "Uh, hey," Marty greeted them, lifting an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"The kids and I are making a few modifications to the car," Doc explained. "I'm finally doing it, Marty. I'm going to the future and having my eyes fixed."

"Hey, that's great! Finally lose your glasses once too often, huh?"

Doc and the tentacles nodded. "This morning was the last straw for all of us. We went to Texaco earlier and got some advice about modifying the DeLorean so the tentacles could fit properly. I was ready to rebuild the car if need be, but luckily some holes through the driver's seat should suffice."

"Whew," Marty said. "Probably would have been a real headache to dismantle the whole car."

"Tell me about it. It probably would have been easier just to switch to a different vehicle and build the time machine over from scratch in that case."

Jennifer sat down beside Doc. "So how far ahead are you going?" she asked, interested.

"Roughly 30 years. My experience with the rejuvenation clinic in 2015 makes me feel that that year's medical technology should be adequate for my needs." He flipped down his mask again and motioned for Jennifer to scoot back. "Plus, it's an era I'm moderately familiar with, having visited a couple of times to upgrade the technology in the DeLorean and prepare for any future time trips."

"Oh." She and Marty exchanged a look. "Um – can we come?"

Doc continued his cutting, letting the tentacles do his staring for him. "You want to come with me?"

"Who _wouldn't_ want to go see the future?" Marty replied, grinning. "I've been wanting to go ever since you came back and told us about it."

"Yeah, I want to see first-hand how much better _our_ future is," Jennifer added.

Doc finished his cut. "Hold on a second," he said, flipping the mask back up and frowning. "If I do take you to the future, you have to follow a few rules. And the most vital of those rules is to not look yourselves up! You could potentially cause a paradox!"

"A paradox?" Jennifer repeated, looking puzzled.

"An act in which the effect of the act cancels out the cause. They can't happen under normal circumstances, but with time travel, it's a catastrophic possibility."

"How could me having a peek at our future house cause a catastrophe?"

"What if your older self is there at the same time? If you saw each other, it could put both of you in shock. Suppose that you both fainted, and you, Jennifer, cracked your head open and killed yourself."

"Can't say I'm liking this example too much."

"Bear with me. Now that you're dead, you can never grow old and become your older self. Which means you couldn't have seen your older self, which means you couldn't have fainted and died!"

"So – Jennifer's alive then?" Marty asked, frowning in confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"The problem is, if she's alive, then she _could_ see her older self, faint, and get killed – and it just keeps on going like that. She'd be both alive and dead at once, which is a violation of every physical law there is. She'd be stuck in a loop." Tommy chittered at him, as if asking a question. "Exactly, Tommy, like a skip in a record."

"That just sounds annoying, not deadly," Jennifer said.

"Well, it depends on whether the universe can sustain such a loop. You're looking at a situation where the entire universe could be destroyed as the space-time continuum tries to right itself." Marty and Jennifer stared at each other in shock. "Granted, that's the worst-case scenario – the destruction could be limited to our own galaxy. But still – paradoxes are not to be trifled with."

"I'll say. Wow," Jennifer muttered.

Marty, however, was still frowning. "Hang on, Doc, could that even happen? We're going to the future – shouldn't we not be there when we get there?"

Doc and the tentacles stared at Marty for a second. The teen started to fidget. "What?"

"Nothing," Doc said, starting to smile. "That was just an excellent example of fourth dimensional thinking."

"It was?" The tentacles nodded, squeaking their praise. "Heh, thanks, guys, but don't expect stuff like that too often. It just seemed odd we'd be around in the future if we weren't around in the past."

"It is odd, but that's the way it works," Doc shrugged. "My future self continued to exist in 2015 when I went on my initial trips – even if he was in a grave the first time. My hypothesis is that it has to do with the ripple effect needing time to catch up. After all, back in 1955, you didn't fade away immediately when you prevented your parents from meeting." Jules made a couple of clacking sounds, nodding his claw. "Ahh, yes, that is a good point. Immediate erasure would have caused a paradox too. That's probably why it took a week – safety catch."

"So how come me coming back to new and improved parents didn't cause a paradox? Uh, not that I'm complaining," Marty hastened to add.

"And hey, _you_ helped change _our_ future," Jennifer agreed. "How come _that_ isn't a paradox?"

Even the tentacles seemed a little confused by this one. Doc thought it over. "I think it's more because those situations were not life-and-death," he finally said. "Even though the future can be changed, things do seem to try and default to a certain setting. George and Lorraine may have vastly improved lives, but they still got married, and they still had three kids, two boys and a girl, right on schedule." Doc blushed faintly. "I have to admit, part of me wondered if I was going to meet a Martina before I completed the time machine."

"I was kind of worried I might be younger," Marty admitted. "You know, come home only to find I'm supposed to be 14 or something."

"That could have been a possibility too. But nope – here you are, almost exactly the same as you were before. And as regards to your own future, you and Jennifer still seem to be married with two kids. Just the quality of your life has improved."

Jennifer still looked confused. "But wouldn't you remember the _good_ future then? And not warn Marty?"

"Well, changing the future seems to involve creating a second set of memories. Marty, may I use you as an example again?" Marty nodded. "Marty recalls both the Twin Pine _and_ the Lone Pine versions of his life. I have a theory that, when his Lone Pine counterpart visited 1955 – the version of himself he saw leaving the mall when he returned – that counterpart's memories defaulted back to the Twin Pines timeline. It's quite possible my own brain did the same thing. You could call it a safety catch, much like the delayed effect of time ripples."

"So – my other self would remember something that – my head's starting to spin," Marty complained, rubbing his temple.

"Sorry. Look, the whole point is that it's better to not look yourselves up in the future. The universe may have safety catches in place to help prevent paradoxes, but accidental killing or maiming from future self-past self contact may not be covered. I don't want to risk it."

"Right, right," Jennifer nodded, sighing. "We can't look ourselves up."

"Exactly. Seeing the future in general should be safe enough, but personal futures shouldn't be tampered with too much."

"Okay," Marty said. "Anything else we should know if we want you to take us with you? And keep it in English."

Doc chuckled. "Well, try not to gawk, obviously, people will think you're strange. And don't talk to anyone if you can help it. Hellos and goodbyes are all right, of course, but don't get sucked into any long conversations. And don't touch anything unless I'm there to explain what it does." Tommy chattered at him, sounding puzzled. "It may be strict, but I don't want anyone getting hurt, or the universe imploding. And those rules apply to you too, kids. I know how inquisitive you all are."

Jules chittered something, holding himself up proudly. The others buzzed at him, Tommy waggling his "tongue" tentacle. "Don't start!" Doc said as Jules hissed at them.

"Why, what did they do?" Marty said, wishing again that the tentacles could talk. A lot of what they got up to together he found, frankly, hilarious.

"Oh, Jules was just saying he would keep them in line, and the others accused him of being a suck-up," Doc said, holding Jules and Albert apart. "Behave, you lot!"

Jennifer giggled. "Don't make Doc get out the duct tape again, kids."

The threat of being temporarily bound made the tentacles settle down. "That's better," Doc said, casting Jennifer a grateful look . "Now, I was thinking of leaving this upcoming Saturday. Is that okay with everyone?"

"I haven't got any plans," Marty said, grinning.

"I'm getting a manicure in the morning, but I'll be free in the afternoon," Jennifer said.

"All right then. Think you can make it here by 3:30 P.M.?"

"Oh yeah, not a problem."

Doc grinned. "Then it's a date."

"All right!" Marty high-fived Tommy. "I can't wait to see what the future is like! Man, I bet they have some rocking tunes. . . . Would it be okay to check out a record store, Doc? I wouldn't try to look up myself, I just want to see what the music is like."

"I suppose that would be all right," Doc admitted. "So long as I have your word you'll be good."

"Scout's honor, Doc."

"Same here," Jennifer said, holding a hand to her heart.

"Good. Just remember, don't talk and don't touch."

"Sure thing. Man, I can't wait to hear the rock of the future! Bet it sounds fantastic!"

Doc chuckled at Marty's enthusiasm. "I'm sure it does."

Albert, however, seemed less happy. He screeched something. "Don't start with the doom and gloom," Marty told him. "This is gonna be great."

"He's right," Doc told the tentacle, going back to his cutting. "You can't always look on the dark side of things. We'll be fine. You'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Saturday, May 17th, 1986

Hill Valley

3:32 P.M.

Marty jogged into Doc's garage. "Sorry I'm a little late," he panted. "I tried to leave enough time to go, but Linda and her latest conquest wouldn't get off the front step. I eventually had to threaten dump ice water down the back of her blouse."

"Don't worry about it," Doc told him as the tentacles patted him on the back. "We're not leaving right this instant. We need to do some prepwork first, such as changing into more futuristic attire."

"I can see," Marty said, nodding at Doc's outfit. His friend was wearing a long gold coat, a red shirt with lines of white Japanese symbols, and bright yellow pants. The teenager frowned dubiously. "Is that really what they wear in the future?"

Doc smirked. "Considering some of the outfits I saw, this is fairly tame." Verne grabbed a bundle off the table. "Here's your outfit. Jennifer's in the bathroom changing into hers."

Marty accepted the clothes and unfolded them with a bit of trepidation. His outfit considered of a bright green shirt emblazoned with a plus and minus sign, a large red and black jacket, a multi-colored cap, and white Nike sneakers. He supposed it wasn't too bad – it was way better than Doc's, at any rate – but still, he was glad nobody from this time period would be seeing it. "Thanks, Doc." Figuring he could start changing while he waited for Jennifer, he sat down and started untying his sneakers.

As he got them off, Jennifer emerged from the bathroom, looking a bit uncomfortable in her pink blouse, yellow vest, metallic skirt, and light yellow tights. "Are you _sure_ this is the longest skirt you could find?" she asked, pulling at the offending item.

"Sorry – we looked all over," Doc said sympathetically as the tentacles nodded. "Is it really that bad?"

"I guess not, not with the tights, but still--" she yanked on it again. "I'm not used to wearing anything this short."

"I like it," Marty grinned.

"You would," Jennifer shot back, though not without a smile of her own.

Marty was distracted from answering by his future sneaker. As he stuck his foot in, the shoe automatically adjusted to fit. "Power laces! All right!"

"Most everything in the future is designed to automatically custom-fit to the buyer," Doc said. "Makes clothes-shopping much easier."

"Great." Marty quickly swapped shirts as Jennifer, Doc, and the tentacles looked away, then put on the jacket. It hung loosely on him, looking to be about four sizes too big. "Uh, Doc, how do you get this one to adjust?"

"There's a touchpad you have to press," Doc explained, squeezing one of the corners. The jacket immediately shrunk, announcing, "Size adjusting – fit."

"Yeah, I accidentally touched the one on my vest," Jennifer said. "Freaked me out when I heard the voice."

"That is kind of creepy," Marty admitted, looking down at the now perfectly-sized jacket. He shrugged and stuck on the cap. "So? How do I look?"

Doc frowned, studying him. "Pull out your pants pockets. It's a fad among some teenage boys to wear their pants inside out." Marty did so. Doc smiled and nodded. "Perfect. You're--"

Albert suddenly made a clicking noise as Doc's expression changed to a thoughtful frown. "– the spitting image of Marty Junior. That has the potential to be a problem."

Marty and Jennifer looked at each other. "What? No way, Doc. My kid can't look _that_ much like me."

"Oh yes he can. I've _met_ him, don't forget. The only real difference I saw was eye color – his are brown, like Jennifer's. It's about the same thing with your daughter, too, actually – she just has lighter hair."

"I still think you're exaggerating."

"Trust me, I'm not." Doc frowned at the tentacles, who chittered back at him. "Perhaps I could try integrating projection technology into you. . .heh, yes, Tommy, I see your Star Wars joke. . . ."

". . . .You know, Doc, they – they _could_ just show me."

Doc paused at that. Then he turned and looked at Marty. The teen shrugged, pushing up the hair on the back of his neck. "You know. . . ."

Doc bit his lip while the tentacles chattered nervously. He hadn't used Jules's special attachments to link up to Marty's brain since the incident with Intern Carlyle. Despite Marty's assurance the intrusion hadn't harmed him, he still considered it extremely dangerous. One small thing going wrong. . . .

Marty guessed at Doc's hesitation. "Doc, really. I'll be fine. That CAT scan said Jules didn't do anything."

Jules looked from Marty to Doc. _**I suspect that – in part – he's doing this just to be belligerent.**_

_I agree,_ Doc replied with the slightest of nods. _But I think he's more curious than anything else. And I suppose he does have a point – the CAT scan should have picked up any abnormalities. Final call is up to you, of course._

Jules hesitated for a moment more. Then he went over and put his claw around Marty's neck. The teen winced slightly as the wires pierced his skin. Seconds later, he heard the soft rumble of scientific equations that always seemed to be at the back of Doc's mind. "All set?" Doc said.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"All right." Doc concentrated for a moment. A picture appeared in Marty's mind of – well, it looked like him in future clothes. He was about to point this out when the picture suddenly zoomed in on his other self's face. Marty stopped as he realized his counterpart _did_ have brown eyes. "Holy shit! That's Marty Junior? Really?"

Doc chuckled. "Yup, that's Marty Junior. The new and improved version, that is. The old one had much greasier hair."

_**See what we mean by twins?**_ Albert added as the picture zoomed back out.

"Yeah – _weird_," Marty muttered. "So, uh, what do we do? People are gonna think I'm him!"

"It would be a longshot for both of you to be wearing the same clothes," Jennifer said, eyeing Jules.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean much if the people in question hadn't seen Marty Junior in person," Doc said as Jules withdrew from Marty's mind. Verne was ready with a napkin to blot up any blood. "This means that the rule about not getting into any long conversations has become particularly important. The last thing we need is you possibly doing something odd with his social group. Just do your absolute best not to talk to _anyone_ if you can help it."

"Not a problem, Doc," Marty said, still rather stunned. "Jesus. . . ."

"Is it really that bad?" Jennifer asked.

"You could see for yourself," Marty told her as Jules chittered.

Jennifer held up a hand. "No thanks. You may be okay with hooking up, but it's just too weird for me." Jules nodded understandingly. "I'll take your word for it."

Doc nodded as well. "Yes, we really shouldn't delay any longer. Still up for the trip?"

"Hell yeah. Seeing Marty Junior didn't freak me out all that much." Marty looked thoughtful. "Though, he isn't Marty Junior any more, is he? You said we renamed him. . . . What's his name now?"

Doc frowned, snapping his fingers. "Damn, it escapes me," he said, leading the way over to the DeLorean. "I haven't seen either of your children that much during my future trips, and it's easy to think of him as Marty Junior because he looks so much like you."

Marty shook his head again. "I'm glad we change it. Talk about overkill."

"I guess we'll find out what it is if anyone mistakes Marty for the-kid-formerly-known-as-Junior," Jennifer said with a slight chuckle.

"True enough," Doc nodded. "Just be careful and remember what I said."

"We will, Doc."

Doc smiled and opened up the doors. "All right then. Let's go."

Marty and Jennifer hopped in, Jennifer settling herself on Marty's lap. Doc and the tentacles squeezed themselves into the other side, the tentacles carefully sliding through the new holes in the seat. _**Tight fit,**_ Tommy remarked, looking around.

_**Very tight,**_ Albert agreed with a squeak.

"We'll live," Doc said, closing his door. "Time circuits on – let's shoot for October 27th, 2015, about 2:30 P.M."

"Sounds good to me," Marty said, putting his arms around his girlfriend.

Jennifer glanced around nervously. "Uh – is there anything you can do about the seatbelt situation? I mean, I know you're not going to deliberately crash us, but I don't feel safe without one on."

The tentacles did their best to curl around the passengers. "That'll have to do for now," Doc said. "They won't let anything happen to any of us."

The tentacles nodded, chittering. Jennifer managed a smile. "I know, but still. . . ."

"We'll see about extending out the regular seatbelts once we get back," Doc promised.

_**Come on, Father, let's go!**_ Tommy cried, excited.

Doc chuckled. "All right, hang on everyone," he said, starting up the car.

Luckily for them, it was an overcast Saturday, meaning not as many people were on the roads. Doc drove over to a secluded side street near Clayton Ravine, then engaged the hover conversion. Switching his regular sunglasses for his future driving glasses, he gunned the DeLorean into the sky. "Prepare yourselves for temporal displacement!"

Marty and Jennifer braced themselves while the tentacles tightened their grip, watching the windshield with interest. Moments later, they hit the magic number of 88. There was a brilliant flash of light, a sonic boom – and then what appeared to be a flying Edsel passed them on the right.

Marty and Jennifer stared. "Jesus, those pieces of junk still exist?" Marty blurted, too stunned to think of anything else.

Doc smiled. "Believe it or not, I've seen flying _Yugos_," he said as more skyway traffic flew around them. "Pintos too. Other cars give them a wide berth."

"Christ."

The tentacles peered eagerly out the windows. _**So this is the future? Doesn't look too different from home,**_ Verne commented.

_**Hey, there are houses down there!**_ Tommy noted, looking down.

"Hill Valley's grown a lot in the past three decades," Doc said, making a few turns so they were heading back into the town. "Things will start to look more futuristic once we reach the heart of town."

"They seem pretty futuristic to me already," Marty said, watching the flying cars around them. "When the hell do cars start _flying_? Half the drivers I know I don't trust on the regular road."

"I don't know the exact date, but I assume it's reasonably new technology," Doc admitted, passing a large tractor-trailer truck. "Given the number of older cars on the road and the commercials for hover-conversions, anyway. I assume newer models are sold fully equipped."

"Heavy," Marty mumbled.

After a few minutes, they reached the exit for the Town Square. Doc pulled off the "road" past a big floating sign welcoming them to Hill Valley. They landed in an alley nearby, Marty, Jennifer, and the tentacles crowding the windows to try and get a glimpse of the square. "All right, all right, settle down," Doc told them, trying not to laugh. "You'll be able to see everything in a minute."

"Why land in an alley?" Jennifer asked as they piled out.

"It's safer than landing directly on the street," Doc said. "I can talk to you in private here, and – well, a few of the modifications I've made to the DeLorean might not be seen as exactly street legal. I have no wish to procure a fine, especially with future inflation being as it is."

**We're**_** street legal, correct?**_ Albert asked, clacking his claw nervously.

"There are laws against illegal bionics, but considering you were welded onto me about 30 years before they were enacted, I think we're all right." The tentacle nodded, relieved.

Marty and the others investigated some of the trash. "Are these laserdiscs?" Marty asked, pointing.

"Yup. They're pretty much out of date by this point, what with videobooks and DVD."

Tommy hefted a pink bundle. _**What's silicone?**_

"It's a synthetic material often used in cosmetic surgery."

"Cosmet – Oh, God, tell me those aren't what they think they are," Jennifer said, covering her mouth.

"They are," Doc said, trying to keep the amusement off his face. "We must be near Bottoms Up."

_**But what are they?**_ Jules asked.

"Breast implants."

_**EWWW!!**_ Tommy dropped the package, screeking. _**I **_**touched**_** that!**_

"See what I mean about not touching anything unfamiliar?" Tommy nodded, trying to wipe his claw off on Doc's jacket.

"Gross – they should at least label them," Jennifer said, making a face.

"Well, I'm sure people in the future know not to touch." Doc opened up the hood of the DeLorean and pulled out a suitcase. "Here's the plan. The kids and I will accompany you for your first look around the Town Square. Then we'll have to leave for our eye appointment at the RevitaClinic. Under no circumstances are you to leave the square. You may look around, but keep all interactions to a minimum." He popped the case open. "I called ahead and discovered the operation shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. Therefore, at roughly 4:30, I want you to head to the Café 80s."

"Café 80s?" Marty repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"One of those nostalgia places, but not done very well. I'll meet up with you there, and we'll grab a snack before returning home. Acceptable?"

Marty and Jennifer were about to nod their agreement when they noticed something. Instead of clothing, Doc's suitcase was filled with all kinds of money, each in a pouch labeled with a year. "Jesus, Doc, where'd you get all of that?" Marty gasped.

"Doubleloons? You've actually got doubleloons?" Jennifer added, looking through the denominations.

_**You haven't been making more illegal deals, have you Father?**_ Verne asked, squeaking.

"It's all on the up and up," Doc assured everyone. "On my initial trips to the future, I sold off some junk I didn't need anymore, then used that money to purchase old coins and bills. We have to be prepared for all monetary possibilities with a time machine at our disposal." He selected a pouch labeled "2015" and pulled out a stack of bills. "Here – should be enough for an emergency and a quick meal."

"Where's _your_ money?" Jennifer asked as Marty took the cash.

"I plan to charge the operation via thumbprint," Doc explained. "It's how most monetary transactions are conducted these days."

"So why give us the paper stuff?" Marty asked.

"I can pass myself off as my older self – you can't," Doc said simply. "For a minor purchase like food, cash should be fine." He relocked the suitcase and put it back in the trunk. "All right," he said, locking the DeLorean up, "ready to see the future?"

"Ready!" Marty and Jennifer chorused.

_**Let's blow this popsicle stand,**_ Tommy agreed, his brother tentacles nodding. Doc grinned and lead them all out of the alley.

As promised, the square looked a lot different than the one from 1985. Marty and Jennifer stared at all the stores. "Jesus, I haven't seen this place so busy since – well, the 50s," Marty admitted. "What happened to Lone Pine Mall?"

"Oh, it's still open," Doc said. "The selection of stores has changed a bit, though. And now we have another, more local mall." He pointed to a sign nearby, sitting over a series of steps leading underground. "They remodeled the courthouse for that purpose."

"They turned the courthouse into a _mall_?" Marty said, looking over at the building itself. The basic frame looked the same, though the front was now smoked glass instead of brick. The clock on top was still stopped – Marty noted with some amusement they also hadn't fixed the chunk Doc had taken out of the ledge climbing all over it in 1955. A group of teenagers in the same ultra-colorful clothes everyone was wearing were loitering on the steps, apparently talking to each other.

"A quite successful one too," Doc said, nodding at the group. "Every time I've visited, it's been bustling with activity."

"Heavy."

Jennifer admired the park in front of the renovated courthouse. "That's so much nicer than that ugly parking lot," she said. "Though, where do people park?"

"Perhaps there's a floating sky garage nearby," Doc shrugged. "I always entered on foot."

Jennifer nodded, then took a look over at the local movie theater. "Holo-Max?" she repeated disbelievingly. "Playing _Jaws 19_?"

"How the hell do you get _19_ sequels out of Jaws?" Marty agreed, frowning at the marquee. "I mean, the shark's dead!"

"Damned if I know," Doc said with another shrug.

Suddenly, a large shark's head rose out of the top of the theater, eyes bulging. Marty and Jennifer started back as the famous theme began playing. The shark lunged at some passerby, jaws wide. "Whoa! Hey, guys--" Marty started, stepping forward.

As the shark bit the people, though, it dissolved away. The "victims" didn't even notice. Marty turned pink as Doc and Jennifer sniggered and the tentacles buzzed. "Shark still looks fake," he muttered, turning back to his friends.

"Of course it does," Doc said with a wide, shit-eating grin.

"That was pretty cool, though," Jennifer said. "I wonder how it works."

The tentacles stretched up to get a better look. _**Is that the kind of projection technology you'd use with us?**_ Jules asked.

_**Looks cheesy to me,**_ Albert said.

"Maybe, but in 1985, it would probably be seen as cutting edge," Doc said. "I mean, look what happened with Marty." Albert had to nod.

Marty was about to shoot him a nasty look when he got distracted by something on the other side of the street. "Hey, guys, check it out," he said, pointing. The others turned to see a fully automated Texaco station checking over a car above a 7-11. "You can trust your car to the system with the star," a voice announced as robotic arms filled the tank, checked the wiper fluid, and cleaned the tires.

The tentacles squealed their delight. _**Yay! We're not weird anymore!**_

Doc had to laugh. "Yes, here in the future creations like you are a bit more commonplace," he said, patting them. "Though I doubt there's any truly sentient robots yet."

_**Just so long as there **_**are**_** robots,**_ Jules said.

Tommy spotted the Café 80s on the corner. He tapped the teens on the shoulders and pointed it out. Marty pulled a face. "Cheesy sign."

"Like I said, not done very well." Doc checked his watch. "All right, the tentacles and I are due at the Revita-Clinic. We'll see you in a couple of hours. Remember, we're meeting at the Café 80s at 4:30."

"Gotcha, Doc. Good luck with the operation." Marty patted Verne. "And stay out of trouble, you guys."

The tentacles nodded. Doc smiled and gave the teens a hug. "All right. You kids have fun." He turned and headed for the Revita-Clinic, the tentacles bobbing in his wake.

The lobby was fairly quiet as they entered. Jules looked around as they approached the front desk. _**Father, I just realized something. Nobody's staring at us.**_

_Really?_

_**Not that we can see,**_ Verne said. _**You must have been correct in 1986 – people are getting used to us.**_

_I should hope so – it's been 30 years for them!_ Doc went up to the human receptionist on duty. "Excuse me – I have an appointment with the vision specialist. My name is Dr. Emmett Brown."

The receptionist checked her list and nodded. "Yes, that would be Dr. M.J. Sheley. Let me just IM her and let her know you're here." She tapped something out on her keyboard. Moments later, her computer dinged. "She's waiting for you in room 207 – just go up one floor and walk down the hall until you see it."

"Thank you." Doc and the tentacles boarded one of the nearby elevators. Tommy screeched in puzzlement as the doors closed. _**Where are the buttons? How do we tell it where we want to go?**_

_Most likely it's voice activated._ "Second floor please," Doc stated aloud.

The elevator obligingly moved up. _**At least there's no crappy elevator music,**_Albert said.

Doc snorted. "Just one of the many improvements of the future."

They reached the second floor within a couple of minutes. Doc and the tentacles disembarked and quickly found room 207. A fair-haired woman in a green jumpsuit was waiting for them. "Dr. Sheley, I presume?" Doc asked, holding out a hand.

"Yes, though it's pronounced 'she-lee,'" the doctor corrected, shaking it. "I really should just call myself 'shelly,' no one gets it right." Doc smiled apologetically. "How are you feeling today?"

"Ready to get rid of these," Doc said, tapping the driving glasses.

"I'm sure. Well then, sit down, and we'll be begin. Dim lights."

The lights lowered to a comfortable level as Doc and the tentacles settled themselves into a reclining chair. "I'm sorry if it's a little uncomfortable – we don't have any chairs that can accommodate the tentacles on hand," Dr. Sheley apologized.

"It's all right – the cushions have enough give to make it bearable," Doc assured her, taking off his glasses and slipping them in his pocket.

A motorized tool tray rolled up next to them. The tentacles investigated the instruments, not recognizing anything except the sleep inducer. "Settle down, you lot," Dr. Sheley said, shooing them away. "You'll be able to see what they do in a minute."

The tentacles froze, stunned. "Is something wrong?"

"It's – I'm not used to anyone else talking to them like they're alive," Doc confessed, just as astonished. "Usually it's just Marty and Jennifer who do that."

Dr. Sheley smiled. "I see. I imagine most people can't get past the robotic elements." Doc and the tentacles shook their heads. "I'm sure things will turn around. These days, it's hard to go through life without talking to at least one AI."

The tentacles buzzed as Doc chuckled. "True enough." _Great Scott, boys, can you believe it?_

_**Barely,**_Albert said. _**Though it's about time!**_

Dr. Sheley tied on a surgical mask. "All right, ready?" Doc nodded. She picked up the sleep inducer. "Tentacles, do you mind monitoring his sleep state and preventing any nightmares? Saves me having to hook up the brainwave neuralizer."

_**Can do,**_ Verne said as he and his brothers nodded and clicked.

"Good, thanks. Pleasant dreams, Dr. Brown."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tuesday, October 27th, 2015

Hill Valley

2:50 P.M.

As Doc walked away, Marty turned to Jennifer. "So – what do you want to do first?" he asked, glancing around the square.

"What every woman wants to do first – shopping," Jennifer grinned. "How about we check out the mall?"

"Sounds good to me." Joining hands, they headed across the street and down the steps.

The interior of the mall looked a lot like the Lone Pine Mall they were used to from 1986 – the same rows of stores with big glass windows, the same tiled floors, the same little "islands" with plants and benches scattered around for people to enjoy. There was plenty that was different, though. For one, what appeared to be conveyor belts were embedded into the floor, carrying those who didn't feel like walking. Most of the stores were unfamiliar to the two teens, and even those that were had updated signs and logos. The color scheme was much brighter – instead of the usual whites and greys, there was lots of pinks, yellows, and blues. And what looked like little motorized trash cans zipped to and fro, looking for people with garbage to dispose of. Jennifer chuckled as one zoomed by them. "I can't imagine the temptation for somebody to try and paint those things to look like R2-D2," she said.

Marty laughed. "Yeah, I know." He located a map against one of the walls and noticed there was a food court just up the hall. "Wanna grab a Pepsi or something?"

"Sounds good to me." They started walking down the hall, then changed their minds and hopped aboard one of the conveyor belts. "Now this is the only way to travel," Jennifer said with a grin.

They watched the stores go past with interest. There was a music store called "MPFreedom;" an electronics and appliances store named "The Sharper Image;" a pet store called "Furz and Featherz;" a toy store with the sign, "Toys R Us 2000;" and a small pretzel stand called "Twisties." Marty looked eagerly back at the music store as they arrived at the food court. "Man, I can't wait to check out some future tunes," he said quietly. "You think they still have rock and roll nowadays?"

"I would hope so." Jennifer blinked as she had a weird thought. "I bet all the bands _we_ like would be in the Oldies section by now."

A shiver went up Marty's spine. "Jesus, yeah. I think I'll avoid those racks."

They stepped off the belt, narrowly avoiding another roving robot. Another conveyor belt circled the court, taking people around the U of restaurants and into the main eating area. There was a large TV screen dominating the tables, subdivided into four sections – one showing the news, another sports, a third weather, and the last a kid's TV show. The restaurants themselves had animated signs, with menus and specials prominently displayed. Marty and Jennifer stood there for a moment, taking it all in, then hopped on the belt.

They stopped at the Burger King and got into line. Marty started as he saw that the place seemed staffed entirely by robots. There wasn't a person in sight. "Holy shit. Where is everybody?"

"Supervisors' on their break, mostly likely," a kid said in front of them. "You just know the ketchup machine's gonna go on the fritz now."

"Uh, yeah." Marty and Jennifer shared a look. "Wild."

At the front of the line, a TV screen displaying the menu greeted them. "Welcome to Burger King. May I take your order?"

"Er – yeah, sure," Marty stammered, trying not to stare. "We'd like two small sodas – Pepsi if you've got it – a small fry, and – Jennifer, you want anything else?" Jennifer shook her head absently, too busy gawking at the robots. "And that's it."

"Two small Pepsis, one small fry," the screen repeated back as the selected items were highlighted. "Confirm that this is the final order?"

"Yup, that's it."

"Thank you. Your order will be ready momentarily." A light next to a metal plate in the counter flashed. "Your total is $47.50."

Marty's eyes bugged. "47 – Jesus, take a pint of my plasma while you're at it," he muttered, fishing out the money Doc had given him.

"Cash?" The light flashed again. "Customary payment is thumb credit."

"I want to get rid of it," Marty said, giving it a quick count. Luckily, Doc had given him more than enough with $500. He pulled out a $50. "So, where--"

"Please place bills and coins into the slots underneath the thumb plate," the screen said, though it still sounded dubious.

Marty spotted the appropriate slot and fed in the bill. The machine admitted an angry-sounding beep. "Please deposit the $10 cash handling surcharge."

Grumpily, Marty slid in another $50. "Thank you. Your change--" a bunch of bills and coins fell into a small tray underneath the slots "– and your order." A robotic arm handed them their drinks and fries. "Have a nice day."

"Thanks," Marty said, stuffing his change back into his pocket. He and Jennifer got back on the conveyor belt and rode it over to the tables. "Christ, 57 bucks for this?"

"Let's hope it still tastes good," Jennifer said, heading for a table near the back.

"For that price, it had better be the tastiest thing ever invented in the history of food."

They settled in, sipping their Pepsis. Marty took out a fry, examined it for a moment, then popped it in his mouth. He chewed it, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm. It's – different."

"Bad?" Jennifer asked with a wince.

"No, not bad – just different. Actually, it's crispier than normal."

Jennifer tried a couple. "_I_ know what this is!" she said. "They're _baked_. My dad makes them like this sometimes."

"Baked?" Marty looked down at the package. Now that he thought about it, he realized they didn't feel greasy either. "I guess they're okay, but – they're French _fries_. What the hell would you bake them for?"

"They're healthier baked," Jennifer shrugged. "I don't know why Burger King would go on a health kick, but whatever."

They sat in silence for a bit, enjoying their food and glancing every so often at the TV. Suddenly, an old man approached them, wearing two brightly-colored ties and carrying a strange-looking box. "Save the Clock Tower! Save the Clock Tower! Hey, kid, thumb a hundred bucks and help save the Clock Tower," he said, offering the box to Marty.

Not knowing how the box worked, and recalling Doc's warning to not interact too much with the locals, Marty held up a hand. "Sorry, no thanks."

"Oh, come on McFly! Your old man always donates! One of the best guys we have!"

Marty was confused for a moment. _Huh? Dad's never been all that interested in the Clock – oh, yeah, this is the future! This guy must think I'm "Junior." Which means he's talking about – Holy _shit_, he's talking about me!_ He blinked a few times as it sank in. _This is _heavy "Well, ah – hit him up for some extra from me," he joked weakly, trying to smile.

The old man rolled his eyes and turned to Jennifer. "How about you? Thumb a hundred bucks?"

"I – uh – can't," Jennifer replied lamely. "They're still trying to replace the clock? I thought the Preservation Society won that battle 30 years ago."

"Eh, Goldie Junior's just like his old man. No respect for history." The man gave them a pleading look. "Come on, you gotta give me something! Lightning struck that thing 60 years ago, on November--"

"12th, 1955 – right, we know the story," Marty said, yanking the change from their meal out. He didn't feel like hearing a repeat of the tale he'd already lived. "Here, take this – if you take cash," he added, handing it over.

"Not usually, but every little bit helps," the old man said, grinning. "Thanks, kid."

Something on the TV screen caught Jennifer's eye. "Hey, Marty, look," she said, pointing to the section on sports.

Marty looked. "Oh, cool, a report on the World – _CUBS_ win World Series? Against _Miami_?!"

The old man chuckled. "I know. It's been on the news for a while now – nobody can believe it. 100 to 1 shot, you know. But then again, nobody expected either of the Soxs to win either."

Marty's mind was reeling. "It's just – Miami–"

"Yeah, Miami's a great team," the man said, not realizing what Marty was so shocked about. "Don't know where their heads were in the final games." He chuckled. "Too bad I didn't know what was gonna happen. I wish I could go back to the beginning of the season and put some money on the Cubs!"

Jennifer's head snapped away from the TV screen. "What did you just say?" she asked, a weird expression on her face.

"I said, I wish I could go back to the beginning of the season and put some money on the Cubbies!"

Jennifer nodded, starting to smile. "Yeah, I think we all wish that."

The old man nodded back, then spotted someone new entering the food court. "Hey! Thumb a hundred to help save the Clock Tower!" he called, hurrying over.

Marty and Jennifer looked at each other – Marty still stunned, Jennifer grinning broadly. "When does Miami get a baseball team?" Marty demanded. "Let alone one bad enough to be beaten by the Cubs?!"

"Obviously, some time in the future," Jennifer replied, barely listening. "But Marty, did you hear what the old guy said? 100 to 1 odds!"

"So?"

"So, if we can convince Doc to lend us the time machine and bet even a few bucks--"

"Whoa, whoa," Marty interrupted her, holding up his hands. "Doc will never go for that."

Jennifer's face fell. "Why not? I'd split the winnings with him, I don't mind."

"Look, I certainly wouldn't mind making some cash with the time machine. But the DeLorean is Doc's, and he doesn't think future information should be used for monetary gain or anything like that."

"How do you know? He's got all that money from different time periods in his suitcase."

"I asked him – I thought he should use the time machine to prevent his mansion from burning down, or at least make enough money to buy a new house. He said he considered that cheating. I know, I know, Doc's not exactly the poster boy for ethics," Marty added as Jennifer gave him a dubious look. "But – well, he worries a lot about paradoxes and stuff like that. And I don't think I helped by nearly erasing myself from existence on my very first trip."

"But he stopped you from getting into that accident."

"Yeah, but I think he felt he owed me one for saving his life. Trust me, Jennifer, if Doc thought it was okay to use future knowledge to make money, he wouldn't still be living in that dinky garage." Marty smiled. "Besides, do we really need to gamble? Doc told us our future's a hell of a lot better now. I doubt we're poor if I regularly donate to the Save the Clock Tower fund."

"I know, I know," Jennifer said, conceding the point. "It's just – it would be nice to have a backup plan, you know? In case of emergencies."

Marty nodded. "If I had the time machine, I'd use it for the occasional bet or stock tip, sure. But it's not mine, so we can forget it." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, though, Jen. No matter what happens to us in the future, we'll get by. We'll always have each other."

Jennifer smiled. "I know," she said, kissing him.

They finished their Pepsis and Marty's fries, then walked back down the way they had come, pausing to look into each store's windows this time. Marty froze as they passed Toys R Us 2000. "Holy _shit_! Jennifer, look at that!"

"What?"

Marty pointed, eyes wide. Displayed prominently in the store window was something called a "hoverboard." It was basically a flat blue board shaped like a skateboard, except that it had no wheels. Instead, two metal disks were attached to the bottom. Two small rockets were mounted on the back. "Looks dangerous," Jennifer said.

"Looks _cool_," Marty said, grinning madly. "Man, imagine the speed you could get on one of those!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Once a skateboard freak, always a skateboard freak," she noted.

"Who wouldn't be with one of those babies?"

Jennifer pulled him onward. "Come on, before you start drooling. I thought you wanted to see what was in the music store."

"I do, but wow." Marty gave the hoverboard one last longing glance before moving on.

MPFreedom looked a lot different from the music stores they knew. Instead of the shelves of records and cassettes greeting them as they walked in, there were rows and rows of big gray blocks, peppered with holes. Each hole was carefully labeled. Marty read a few. "Emo Punk'D – Life Sucks; Dolly Llama, US of A; Linkin Park, Darker and Deeper--" He shook his head, baffled. "What the hell? Where's all the rock?"

Jennifer wandered into the back, and returned carrying a couple of boxes. "Look at this," she said, handing them over. "They look like compact discs. I think tapes are long gone by this point. There's even something called 'Blu-Ray' back there – damned if I know what it is."

Marty looked. One of the boxes had the cover art for a band called "Future Freaks" on the front – Marty could see a shiny silver disc inside through the clear back. The other was a little larger, and had the poster art for a movie called Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Wererabbit printed on it. Marty attempted to open them, but they were sealed tight. "Weird," he muttered, looking back at the CD inside the "Future Freaks" case. "You wouldn't think you could fit an entire movie onto something like that."

"Well, that one was in a section called DVDs," Jennifer admitted, taking the movie. "Must be different from a plain old CD. Doc mentioned them, didn't he?"

"Yeah, said they replaced laserdiscs." Marty eyed the giant blocks of music. "Still wish I knew what those were all about."

"Oh, hey Douglas!"

Marty ignored the voice, looking at the signs atop the blocks. "Okay, Punk Rock, Emo Rock – I'd guess that's where we are – Rap, Techno, Alternative, Classic, Oldies – 50s, Oldies – 60s, Oldies – 70s – Oh, this is not a good trend--"

"Douglas!"

Jennifer nudged Marty. "I think he's talking to you," she whispered.

Startled, Marty turned to see a middle-aged man in a bright blue suit approaching them. "Hey, Douglas," he said with a smile. "Who's your lady friend?"

_Douglas? I end up naming my kid Douglas?_ "Uh, this is – Klein. Annie Klein. She's the granddaughter of the guy who got my grandparents together." Marty got a shiver up his spine – thinking of his parents as grandparents made him feel really weird. And kind of old, too. "Visiting from – uh--"

"New Mexico," Jennifer supplied.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Cool. Nice to meet you, Annie." The guy shook Jennifer's hand. Marty took the chance to read his nametag – Jeff. "Funny, your dad didn't say anything about anybody visiting when I talked to him the other day," Jeff continued.

"She just got in today," Marty said. 'I'm giving her the grand tour."

"Ah. So, how're you doing, Douglas? Haven't seen you or your sister in here for a while."

"You know – keeping busy," Marty said with a vague smile. Something about Jeff was nagging at the back of his brain. "How about you?"

"Good, good. Store's doing great."

Jennifer looked around, raising an eyebrow dubiously. "Looks pretty empty to me."

"We're busiest on the weekends," Jeff said. "And most of our revenue is online sales anyway. The store's really just a token presence in the real world." Jeff smirked. "I basically get paid for playing on the computer all day."

Jennifer laughed. "Sounds good to me."

Marty's eye caught the sign he hadn't wanted to see – "Oldies – 80s." He sighed deeply. "The 80s as classic rock," he muttered. Abruptly remembering Jeff, he quickly added, "The way my Dad talks about it all. . . ."

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, we're all kind of stuck in the 80s. You and Marlene played '1985' to death when it came out."

Marty just smiled back. _Christ, I don't want my favorite bands to be the oldies! Guess there's not much I can do about it, though. And what's the deal with my daughter – Jesus, my _daughter_ – being named the same, but my son not? I mean, I guess Douglas isn't that bad, but it's still weird._

Jennifer looked Jeff up and down. "You look kind of familiar. Do you have family back in New Mexico?" she asked, frowning.

"Nope. The Falls have been Hill Valley born and bred for about six generations now."

_The Falls? Wait a minute, that means – _"Holy shit, _J. J._?!" Marty gasped.

Jeff – J. J. – gave Marty a funny look. "Uh, yeah, Douglas. That's your dad's nickname for me, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Marty said, attempting to disguise his shock. "I – I was just drawing a total blank, and it was bugging the hell out of me."

"Oh. I hate it when that happens."

Marty nodded, not really hearing. He could barely believe it was his old keyboardist in front of him. He looked so – _different_! Older, of course, with more wrinkles and a touch of grey in his hair. His nose was bent slightly – would he break it in the future? And his hair was _short_! Marty couldn't remember the last time he'd seen J. J. with short hair. _Man, talk about a mind-bender!_

Jennifer realized it too, and got uncomfortable. "We – we should be going."

"Yeah, lots of places to see, stuff to do," Marty nodded. "We'll see you around."

"Take care," J. J. smiled. "Oh, and Douglas – tell your dad I'll be sending the inventory stats later today."

"Will do," Marty nodded. He and Jennifer exited the store as fast as they could. "Holy shit!" Marty gasped as soon as they were out of earshot. "Did you see him?"

"Yeah! Man, I can barely believe that was J. J.!" Jennifer looked back at the store window. J. J. was back behind the counter, fiddling with some sort of screen. "He looks pretty good for 48."

"I can't believe he cuts his hair," Marty admitted. "He's always sworn he'd be long-haired long for life. Seeing it short – wow."

"I think he looks better with short hair, honestly." Jennifer shook her head. "Of all the people I thought we'd run into, he was one of the last on the list."

"Yeah, I know. Least now I know he and I are still friends." Marty frowned, confused. "Though what did he mean by sending me the inventory stats?"

"Maybe you guys work there together, _Douglas_," Jennifer said with a small smile.

Marty couldn't help a chuckle. "Like I said, Junior was overkill. See, I told you your Dad wouldn't get his way." The teenager rolled his eyes. "Norman McFly. . . ."

"It doesn't sound that bad," Jennifer said, though her face was dubious. "Where did you come up with Douglas, though? I know it can't be after Needles."

"It's my dad's middle name," Marty explained. "I thought it would be nice." He looked at his girlfriend. "I'm a little surprised we didn't end up changing our daughter's name in the bargain. Do you like the name Marlene? I don't have any problem with changing that, if you want."

"Come on, Marty, they're your clones. One of them ought to be named appropriately." They both giggled for a moment. "Seriously, Marlene's fine. And I like Douglas too."

"Good."

They walked around for a little bit more, looking in shop windows and commenting on what they saw. Eventually, they made their way back over to the Toys R Us 2000. Marty looked longingly at the board in the window. "Man, if I could only buy one of those. . . ."

"Doc would never let you keep it," Jennifer said.

"I know, but--"

Marty suddenly frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder. . . ." He went inside, while Jennifer watched in confusion.

A few minutes later, he reemerged, blushing furiously and holding something behind his back. "What did you do?" Jennifer asked.

"I wanted to know if they rented them," Marty admitted. "Or knew of a place that did. The guy said they didn't, but his daughter – think it was his daughter, anyway – was in the store, and she offered me the use of hers for the day for 100 bucks."

"Well, that was nice."

Marty pulled out – a pink, Mattel-brand hoverboard. "It's a _scooter_," he said in a pained voice. "Look, you can see the hole where the handle is supposed to go."

Jennifer hid her smile with her hand. "It's still a hoverboard."

"Yeah, but – it's pink! It's a kid's toy! Hell, even the little girl didn't like it – when I left, she was bugging her dad to let me keep the damn thing and buy her a Pitbull."

"Marty, you wouldn't actually do that, would you?"

"No – like you said, Doc wouldn't let me keep it. I'll probably ditch it somewhere and let someone else pick it up." He looked at the board and sighed. "It had to be pink. . . ." He tucked it under his arm. "Well, it's mine for the day – might as well head outside and try it out."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Tuesday, October 27th, 2015

Hill Valley

4:15 P.M.

Jennifer checked her watch as Marty skated around the Clock Tower Park. "It's a quarter after four," she reported as he hovered by. "We should probably hit the Café 80s and wait for Doc."

Marty nodded, circling around and hopping off. "Woo! Man, Jennifer, you really ought to try this thing!"

"I'd prefer not to break my neck, thanks."

"But it's incredible! A regular skateboard doesn't even compare!" Marty impulsively hugged the board. "When do you get invented?"

Jennifer couldn't help but laugh at her boyfriend's enthusiasm. "I guess you've gotten over it being pink."

"I can stand pink if it's this cool," Marty said, grinning. "I wish I didn't have to leave it behind." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Think we can convince Doc to rig up some fake wheels for it?"

"Maybe," Jennifer shrugged. "Ask him once he gets back. I mean, he did make the tentacles. Disguising a hoverboard should be easy."

"Hmm, yeah. Maybe I can ask him to make it an early birthday present or something."

They left the park and headed across the street to the Café. Before they reached the diner, however, Marty spotted something interesting. "Hey, Jen, check it out."

"It" turned out to be an antiques store, called "Blast From The Past." The teenagers approached it cautiously, staring at the front window. Some of the items they recognized, some they didn't. "Holy shit," Marty whispered, pointing to the "1989 collectable" sign next to a floppy-eared rabbit doll. "Now I _really_ feel old."

Jennifer looked at one of the mannequins. "That jacket over there looks _exactly_ like your jacket back home."

"Maybe it _is_ mine, and I donated it." Marty's eyes roved over the other items. "Man, too weird. . . ."

Jennifer's eyes, however, locked onto something in the middle of the window. Sitting admist all the 70s and 80s memorabilia was a sports almanac. Grey's Sports Almanac, the cover read. 1950 – 2000.

The Clock Tower man's comment about the Cubs echoed in Jennifer's mind. If she bought that almanac, she'd have 14 years of winning statistics at her fingers. She could ensure that she and Marty had enough money to buy a good house and raise their kids. She could be positive that their future would be a good one.

_But Doc would never let me,_ she thought, glancing at Marty. _He'd confiscate it immediately and give me a big lecture. And Marty didn't seem too wild about the idea either, honestly. What if he thinks that it's some sort of insult to gamble with future info? That I don't trust him to provide for us properly?_

_But it would be so much _easier_ this way. We'd never have to worry about money matters. Marty could concentrate on his dream of becoming a rock star. And Doc – Doc couldn't think it was all bad, could he? Especially not if we bought him a house or a proper lab or something like that._ She looked at Marty again, this time with a frown. _Besides, Marty wants to take that hoverboard back with him – and _that's_ just for having fun! I want to secure our family's future!_

She made up her mind. "I think I'll head inside, have a look around," she said, heading for the front door.

"Seriously?" Marty shook his head. "You're braver than I am, Jennifer. Just looking in the front window makes me feel ancient. I mean, there's some stuff here that we haven't even seen yet, and they're calling them antiques! That doll, this almanac thing, that computer over there. . . ."

"I'm curious," Jennifer shrugged, making sure she didn't react to Marty seeing the almanac. "Plus, I might find a future souvenir Doc actually can't object to."

Marty laughed. "More than I can say for this," he admitted, holding up the hoverboard. "I'll be over by the Café 80s if you need me."

"I'll meet you there in a few." Jennifer headed up the small flight of steps and in the front door.

Blast From The Past was even more cluttered inside. Huge shelves on the walls creaked with the weight of the antiques piled on them. Items were spread out on every available surface. Most were at least vaguely familiar to Jennifer, but a few puzzled her. "Who or what is Harry Potter?" she mumbled, running her fingers over the cover of an immensely thick book.

"Sorry, that's not for sale," a voice said, making Jennifer start. She turned to see a blond woman in a skintight leotard emerge from the back room. "My niece left it here this morning – it's one of her parents' prized books. We do have some early Harry Potter stuff over here, if you're interested."

Jennifer smiled. "Actually, I'd like to see that sports almanac you have in your front window. . . ."

Tuesday, October 27th

4:19 P.M.

"Holy shit."

Marty stared through the huge windows of the Café 80s. A very brightly-colored, wild-looking place stared back at him. Doc hadn't been kidding when he said it was one of those nostalgia places – 80s memorabilia lined almost every wall. Most of it was familiar, but like with Blast From The Past, Marty saw some stuff he didn't recognize. Like those strange yellow signs dotting one wall – who needed to know if you had a baby on board? The "dead wife in trunk" one was kind of funny, though. . . . Behind the main counter was a huge bank of TV screens, alternately displaying highlights from the menu and clips from classic 80s TV shows – Marty recognized bits from "Family Ties," "Taxi," and, weirdly, "The Smurfs." Other TVs were suspended from the ceiling – they displayed animated versions of famous 80s personalities. As Marty watched, they moved from table to table, carrying food on little trays beneath them. _They're the waiters,_ Marty realized with a jolt. _Man, this is _heavy_. I wonder what kind of food they serve. More baked fries?_

"Nice hoverboard."

Marty looked up as two guys in inside-out jeans and black shirts passed by, smirking. "My little sister would shred that, and she loves pink," the one on the left continued.

"Your family not make enough money for some real power?" the other said, chuckling.

Marty just gave them a weak smile, trying desperately to control the urge to punch their lights out. Despite Doc's warning and his close call with the car accident, he still had some problems with his temper. _Calm down, McFly, they're just jerks. You don't want to break your hand on some futuristic junk they're wearing and make the future suck again. And at least they're not calling you chicken about anything._

Luckily, the boys just walked on, giving Marty a chance to cool down. He looked back at the pink board. "Cool or not, I'm gonna catch nothing but shit carrying you," he told it, ducking into the nearby alley where the DeLorean was stored.

The car was sitting right where they'd left it a couple of hours ago. Marty popped open the trunk and stuck the hoverboard inside. _Hopefully I won't forget to show it to Doc. Then again, I'm pretty sure the tentacles would find it before anything happened. Man, I really hope I can convince him to let me keep it. And maybe give it a paint job._

He headed back to the Café 80s, intending to do some more gawking before Doc got back. He spotted an old, wrinkled man sitting in one of the booths who looked oddly familiar. After examining him for a bit, Marty realized it was Biff Tannen. _Holy shit, he looks old! Guess car detailing really takes it out of you._

Biff noticed him and favored him with a scowl. Marty just rolled his eyes. It was old news that Biff didn't like him or his family. Sure, he was nice to George McFly's face, but Marty knew he was still the same old jackass underneath that he'd been in the old 1985. _At least he was smart enough not to give me shit over Doc and the tentacles. I'm so glad Dad got a chance to knock his block off in 1955. . . ._

"Hey, Douglas!"

Marty started at the familiar voice. _Damn, someone else thinks I'm my future kid! Maybe if I ignore –_

_Hang on. Familiar voice? In the _future Unable to help himself, Marty turned around.

His jaw dropped. Standing behind him was none other than his older brother Dave! He too looked old, with grey hair and lots more wrinkles. "Holy shit," Marty whispered. "Dave?"

Dave grinned. "No 'uncle?' Just because you look like my kid brother doesn't mean you have to act like him." He turned serious again. "Come on, we're gonna be late!"

"Late?" Marty repeated stupidly.

"Yes, late. You don't want to miss everything just because you were a few minutes off, right?"

"Ah, no. . . ."

"Well then, come on!" Dave grabbed his arm and began pulling him toward a fancy-looking black car parked by the curb.

"But – but--" Marty stammered, badly confused and, frankly, a little frightened. How on earth could he explain to Dave that he wasn't Douglas?

"No buts," Dave said firmly, opening the door. "In. Grandma and Grandpa don't like to be kept waiting."

Seeing no avenues of escape, short of possibly knocking his brother out, Marty reluctantly entered the car. The inside looked pretty much like most cars Marty knew, though with more blinking lights and a half-circle steering wheel that looked like it came off one of those arcade plane fighter games. The seat belt automatically locked into place around him as Dave got into the driver's seat. Marty tried one last time to get free. "Uh – Uncle Dave, I'm sure my parents can get me. You don't have to do this."

"Actually, they sent me to get you," Dave said, slipping on a pair of driving glasses. His were dark green, as opposed to Doc's silver. "Probably because I'm hell on wheels when I need to get someplace." He chuckled as they pulled away and headed toward the skyway ramp. "Don't worry – I know you're not a big fan of regular theater, but you've liked Grandpa's other plays. So just relax."

Marty just sighed as they took to the air. _Great. There goes any chance I had of keeping that board. I just hope Doc and Jennifer can figure out what happened!_

Tuesday, October 27th

4:25 P.M.

Doc exited the RevitaClinic with a wide smile. Damn, it felt _good_ to see everything in the _right_ colors, instead of shaded or tinted in red! He hadn't realized how much he'd missed not having to wear glasses until now.

_**No more having to search everywhere for the damn things,**_ Albert agreed with an unusually cheerful screak.

_**Though, as regards to the color issue, you could always change out our current cameras for color models,**_ Jule suggested.

_I'll make a note of it for later upgrades. There's quite a few things I'd like to change on all of you, now that we're free of the Libyan threat. Nothing to do with your AI, of course,_ he quickly added, feeling a surge of nervousness from the tentacles. _Things like maybe adding voice modules._

_**So we could finally talk?**_ Verne asked, interested._** No more pantomiming everything?**_

_That's the idea, yes._

_**We'd like that,**_ Tommy said, nodding his claw.

_I thought you would._ Doc checked his left watch as they quickly covered the distance to the Café 80s. _Hmm, we're a little early. Ah well, I'm sure Marty and Jennifer won't mind._

Neither teen was in sight as they arrived. "Probably out poking around somewhere," Doc murmured. "I hope they remember to come here."

_**They should**_, Verne said. _**Marty and Jennifer are good kids.**_

_**They'll probably be a little late though,**_ Albert added. _**How long a grace period should we allow them?**_

_**15 minutes seems reasonable,**_ Jules replied. _**What do you think, Father?**_

"Sounds perfect."

However, they didn't have to wait nearly that long. A minute later, Jennifer emerged from the nearby antiques store, clutching a silver bag. She glanced inside with a smile. "It's perfect. And I'm sure I can convince Marty--"

She stopped as she saw Doc and the kids. "Oh, hey, Doc, tentacles," she said, quickly hiding the bag behind her back. "How'd the surgery go?"

"Just fine," Doc said, frowning. "Why were you in Blast From The Past?"

"Marty and I saw some junk in there from the 80s, and I got curious," Jennifer shrugged, smiling a bit insincerely. "It's weird to think most of that stuff is antique nowadays. I saw some old 'Huey Lewis and the News' posters in there – Marty's going to have a heart attack once I tell him about it."

_**She's hiding something,**_ Albert said, chittering softly. _**Should we retrieve it?**_

_Give her a chance to show it to us. Might just be something she thinks is a tad embarrassing._ "So, what's in the bag then?"

"Just a little souvenir," Jennifer said, beginning to fidget. "Book to read. . . ."

Doc frowned. "Can I see it?"

"I'd – um – well--"

That was all Doc needed to hear. He nodded to the tentacles. Verne promptly shot out and snatched the bag from Jennifer's hands. "Hey! That's mine!"

Verne lifted it out of her reach and brought it to Doc. Doc opened it up and pulled out a sports book. He blinked, confused. "Grey's Sports Almanac? With 50 years of sports statistics? Hardly recreational reading, Jennifer. You don't even like sports."

Jennifer sighed. "It's nothing, really. Some guy trying to collect money for the Clock Tower got to talking about us about the recent World Series and betting on the Cubs. And I got to think – if Marty and I ever had any financial problems, I'd make a bet or two--"

"Jennifer!" Doc gasped as the tentacles chattered scoldingly. "I did not create the time machine for gambling! The intention here is to gain a clearer perception of humanity! Where we've been, where we're going – the pitfalls and the possibilities, the perils and the promise! Perhaps even an answer to that universal question – why?"

Doc and the tentacles gazed nobly into the horizon. Jennifer shook her head. "Yeah, Marty _said_ you'd say something like that. But what's so wrong with making a few extra dollars on the side?"

"Did _none_ of my lecture on the nature of paradoxes sink in? The risks far outweigh any reward in this situation!" Doc stuffed the book back in its bag. "I'm putting this in the trash."

"I guess you'll have to dump Marty's hoverboard then too," Jennifer snapped, feeling piqued.

"His _what_?!" Doc slapped his forehead, frustrated. "Maybe I should have just kept all the money. . . ."

"And besides, what about you? You have future stuff hanging around your house!" Jennifer went on. "Hell, don't the kids already have future technology in them?"

_**Do we?**_ Jules asked, surprised.

"Your neural nets," Doc explained. "Nothing in the 1980s would have been sufficient for the purpose I wanted you to serve. I reverse-engineered as much of it as possible, but I couldn't get around using some 21st century parts." Turning back to Jennifer, he added, "And I may have future items, but those are simply for scientific research and to aid me on my trips to this time period. You don't see me carrying them around or trying to patent them. I wouldn't mind a small trinket you could hide or disguise in some way, but this – _this_ is unacceptable." He shook the bag. "Why on earth do you think you need this, anyway?"

"Emergencies! You never know what's going to happen in the future! Or, to be more accurate, you won't tell us. How do I know Marty and I aren't really bums on the street?"

"You're not bums," Doc snapped as the tentacles grumbled. "Future information can be _dangerous_, Jennifer. That's why I try to keep it to a minimum. Just imagine if this sort of knowledge fell into the wrong hands!"

"And I'm the wrong hands?" Jennifer snarled.

"No, of course not! But what if you ended up dying because some shady organization got suspicious of your luck and decided to bump you off? Or what if someone stole the book from you? We could have a catastrophe on our hands! I'm sure Marty would agree with me!"

Jennifer was about to shoot back another hateful reply when it hit her. Her anger melted into puzzlement as she looked around. "Hey, where _is_ Marty?"

Doc started. "Wasn't he with you?" he asked, suddenly acutely aware of the teen's absence.

"Nope – he stayed outside while I went in there," Jennifer explained. "He wasn't out here when you got here?"

"No!" Doc spun around, he and the tentacles looking every which way for the missing teen. "Marty? Marty?!"

_**Maybe he was kidnapped!**_ Tommy exclaimed.

_**Who would kidnap Marty in the **_**future**__Verne retorted.

_**Actually, Tommy has a point,**_ Jules said. _**A kidnapper could have taken Marty after mistaking him for his future son. I hope I'm wrong, of course.**_

"Yes, let's not jump to conclusions," Doc agreed, trying to calm down. "Marty might have simply seen something interesting and gone off to look at it. I'm sure he hasn't gone far."

"Oh, I hope not," Jennifer said, wringing her hands. "Somebody already thought he was our kid – his name's Douglas now, you know."

"Douglas!" Doc said, smacking his forehead. "I thought it was. It seemed a longshot for you to name him Norman. . . ."

Tommy noticed an old man hobbling toward them. _**Hey, maybe we can ask this guy if he's seen Marty – or "Douglas," I guess.**_ He went over and lightly tapped the man on the shoulder. _**Excuse us –**_

The man swung his cane at the tentacle. "Hey! Don't touch me! Mechanical butthead!"

Doc and Jennifer jumped. They both knew _that_ voice. Very well. "Biff!" Doc gasped, turning to face him.

Biff scowled at them. Time hat not been kind to the auto detailer – his scraggly white hair was rapidly thinning, his face was a mass of wrinkles, and he was extremely stooped over, almost like a hunchback. He waved his cane at the scientist. "What the hell are you doing, sending one of those things to harass me?" he demanded.

"Sorry, we were just wondering if you'd seen Douglas McFly," Doc said, hoping to keep the conversation as short as possible. Biff was one of his least favorite people in Hill Valley. The man had been responsible for a number of vandalism incidents around his house, and for spreading some of the worst of the rumors. Doc was pretty sure Biff had been one of those who agreed with Stanley Carlyle about the tentacles as well. _Of all the people in this town to bump into. . . ._

Biff huffed and pointed to the Café 80s. "Yeah, McFly's kid is in there. Butthead. I bet his old man would have been the biggest loser on the planet if he hadn't gotten all those lucky breaks. Some people get everything. . . ."

The tentacles hissed softly. "We merely asked for a location, not any editorial comments," Doc snapped.

"Shut it," Biff snapped back. "You're still a freak, Brown. You and those _things_." The hissing from the tentacles grew louder. "Too bad nobody else realizes it anymore. I would have given anything to see you and McFly in the gutter. Especially McFly. Whole family full of buttheads! I should have been the one to marry Lorraine, not that moron George! And then to have to kiss up to him all the time--"

Marty exited the Café 80s just then, much to Doc's relief. "Yes, yes, etcetera, etcetera," he said to Biff. "Thank you for your 'help.'" He walked over to meet the teen, rolling his eyes. _Great Scott, even on my worst days, I'm not nearly as bitter!_

_**He's just an asshole,**_ Albert said. Tommy agreed, buzzing his tentacle at the auto detailer.

Biff took another swing at them with his cane. Doc absently noticed the top was shaped like a fist – very appropriate for Biff Tannen. "Buttheads! Damn Brown and McFly, lording it over the rest of us! George was the worst, what I--"

He suddenly stopped as Jennifer jogged past him. Neither Doc or Jennifer noticed the confused look on his face as he watched the teen hurry after her friend. _Huh?_ _That looks like Marty's wife Jennifer! But she's way too young. Plastic surgery? God knows they can afford it._ Curious despite himself, Biff stepped into a nearby shop doorway to try and listen in, making sure the tentacles didn't see him.

Doc stopped a few feet from Marty. "Couldn't resist taking a look at the inside, huh?" he said, both relieved the teen hadn't gone far and annoyed he hadn't come to meet them right away.

Marty blinked, then turned and grinned. "Oh, hey, Doc, kids," he said. "Yeah, I had to stop in for a snack." He cocked his head. "I thought Uncle Dave was picking me up, though."

Now it was Doc's turn to blink. _Uncle Dave?_

_**Oh, boy,**_ Albert groaned. _**We've got the wrong one, haven't we?**_

_Certainly looks that way,_ Doc thought with a wince. _Wonderful._

Jennifer frowned, not noticing. "Uncle Dave? Marty, it's just us. You don't have to pretend."

"Marty? My name's--"

The teen stopped, eyes going wide as he took in Jennifer's face. "What the freg – _Mom_?!"

Jennifer froze. "Mom?" she repeated softly. "Oh my God – _Douglas_?"

"Yup," Doc sighed. "Look at his eyes – they're brown."

"Holy _shit_."

"Mom, is that really you? Christ!" Douglas gasped, stunned. "You look so – young! Uh, not that you look bad the way I know you. . . . I wonder if this is how Dad felt back in the 50s."

"Total shock? Sounds right to me," Jennifer said. "Jesus. You two could be – and Marlene's the same way?"

"Except for an X chromosome and much lighter hair," Doc nodded. "Douglas, you haven't seen any mysterious twins of yours, have you?"

Douglas shook his head. "Was Dad supposed to be out here?"

"Yeah, we were all going to meet up here after Doc came back from the RevitaClinic," Jennifer said. "I only left him out here for a few minutes! Where could he – why did you just go pale?"

Douglas groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Nump. . .I think I know what happened to Dad."

"What, what, what?" Doc asked, suddenly very worried. The tentacles made soft screeching noises, hovering nervously around Douglas.

"One of Grandpa's plays is being staged tonight – he writes a couple in the 1990s – so we're all going to see it. And Uncle Dave was supposed to pick me up to get ready about now."

Doc groaned loudly. "And since Marty was outside. . ._damn_. . . ."

_**All's not lost, Father,**_ Jules said, trying to comfort him. _**At least now we know where Marty is.**_

_**Sort of,**_ Albert qualified. _**All we really know is that he's with Uncle Dave. He could be at the theater, Dave's house, George and Lorraine's house, his own future house. . . .**_

"Where was Dave supposed to take you?" Doc asked, trying to narrow things down.

"Just back home to get dressed up."

"Great! Hopefully we can get there before everyone leaves." Doc checked the skyway report through Verne. "No major traffic jams – luck is on our side. Come on, everyone."

"So I really get to see our future house?" Jennifer asked, grinning.

"If all goes well, just the front stoop – I don't want you running into your older self," Doc told her. "But hopefully the outside will be enough to put your money concerns at rest." He glanced down at the Blast From The Past bag, still absently clutched in one hand. "And _this_ stays here," he added firmly, handing it to Jules. "I didn't invent a time machine to win at gambling! I invented a time machine to travel through time!" Jules tossed the book into a nearby trash barrel.

"I know, I know," Jennifer muttered, glancing longingly toward it.

Douglas looked between them. "I'm guessing there's a story here. . . ."

"If you really feel the need to know, we can explain on the way there." Doc led the teens into the alley, making sure to keep an eye on Jennifer via the tentacles. He checked out the DeLorean, then once satisfied it was untouched, unlocked the doors and ushered Douglas and Jennifer in. "Where to, kid?" he asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Zemeckis Gardens," Douglas said as Doc hit the hover conversion. "You go up the skyway ramp, then take a right. . . ."

As they drove away, none of them noticed Biff come out of his hiding spot. The auto detailer shuffled toward the trash can and grabbed the almanac. He smiled evilly. "So. . .Doc Brown invented a time machine," he muttered. "Well, _I_ know where McFly lives too. TAXI!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tuesday, October 27th, 2015

Hill Valley

4:49 P.M.

_Hilldale?!_

Marty's stomach did a few flip-flops as he read the floating sign. "Hilldale – Zemeckis Gardens." _No! We're supposed to be out of here! We're not supposed to be losers anymore! _he thought, feeling nauseous. _Did my future go down the tubes _again?

Dave frowned over at him as they flew down the on-ramp. "You all right, Douglas? You look kinda pale."

"Y-yeah, I'm okay," Marty said. "Just – something funny at lunch coming back to haunt me."

Dave shook a playfully-scolding finger in his direction. "I keep telling you, bring your lunch, don't buy."

Marty smiled weakly. "I'll try to remember that."

Despite his nervousness, Marty couldn't help but be curious as he and Dave entered the neighborhood. Even a futuristic slum had to be more interesting than any of the normal neighborhoods back home. He scanned the street as they landed, bracing himself for whatever he might see. _Please, please don't be too trashy. . . ._

But as they drove down the street, Marty relaxed. This neighborhood seemed _much_ nicer than the Hilldale Doc had described to him late last year. The houses were all in nice condition, the lawns well-kept, and the streets clean of trash. The most vandalism he saw were a few squiggles on the sign into the complex. _This isn't bad at all. Kinda like good old Lyon Estates back in 1986. Definitely a lot better than that junk heap Doc warned me about._

Dave finally parked in front of a yellow townhouse. Marty noticed with a happy thrill the BMW parked in the driveway. "Bitchin' car," he murmured as they got out.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, your dad's cool because he drives a Beemer. Hurry up already!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Marty jogged up to the front door. _Whoa, I'm actually gonna see my future house! This is _heavier_ than heavy. I really hope it's as nice on the inside as it is on the outside. Damn, I almost wish Jennifer was here – then she could see for herself we're doing all right._

He tried to open the door – only to discover there was no doorknob. As he stared in confusion, Dave pressed his thumb against a plate embedded into the doorframe. A green light flashed, and the door unlocked, a mechanical voice greeting them with, "Welcome, David." Marty grinned. _Cool! Man, I really wish I didn't have to wait 30 years or so to see all this stuff invented._

"Did you get him all right, Dave?" a voice called as they entered the house. Marty frowned – the voice sounded really familiar, but with all that was going on, he couldn't _quite_ place it. _Damn, that's going to bug me for a while. . . ._

"Yeah, he was hanging out in front of the Café 80s," Dave called back. He frowned as he saw Marty gawking at the inside. "Uh – Douglas, you okay?"

"Yeah," Marty said vaguely. For the most part, the house looked pretty normal – rather like his own house back in 1986, actually. But there were a few interesting differences. The TV was subdivided into smaller screens, just like the one in the mall – six instead of four this time. A pulled window shade displayed an image of a beautiful garden, with ponds, topiaries, and a gazebo in the distance. What appeared to be another type of TV sat on the living room table. Moving a little closer, Marty saw the thin screen was attached to a keyboard. _It's a computer,_ Marty realized, astonished. _Jesus, I've never seen one like that before! All the ones I know are so clunky-looking. The future is looking better and better by the minute._ He peered at the screen. _Retro Gaming .com _– _"American McGee's Alice." Uh, what the hell?_

"Don't touch it! I haven't saved yet!"

Marty started as a girl rushed by him and plopped herself down in front of the computer. "It took me _forever_ to beat the Tweedles," she continued, hitting some keys. "I am _not_ going through that again."

"Right," Marty said. "I wasn't going to touch it."

"Thanks." The girl finished what she was doing and turned to face him. "You'd better get upstairs and get ready. Grandma and Grandpa are really looking forward to this."

Marty couldn't reply. The person in front of him was obviously female, but – she looked almost exactly like _him_! Her hair was lighter, sure, and she had Jennifer's brown eyes, but other than that. . . . _Holy shit! She and Douglas have _gotta_ be twins. No way you could get this from separate births._

The girl – _Marlene, _Marty remembered, _her name's Marlene _– lifted an eyebrow. "What's wrong? Something on my face or in my hair?" She pulled out a mirror and checked.

"He's been acting a little strange ever since I picked him up," Dave admitted. "Like he's a tourist in his own hometown." He suddenly frowned severely. "Douglas, you're not _tranqued_, are you?"

"What? Uh, no," Marty said, shaking his head. "At least, I don't think I am."

"Was Griff Tannen at the café?" Marlene asked, looking concerned. "I wouldn't put it past that asshole to spike your drink."

"Griff's in jail, remember Marlene?" called that familiar voice again. "For that music download scam. We don't have to worry about him for a long time." Someone new walked in from the dining room. "Now go on, Douglas, we're cutting it kind of close as it is."

Marty's brain completely locked up. Now he understood why that voice had been so familiar. Standing in front of him was none other than – himself! His hair was a bit greyer, and he had a few wrinkles around the eyes, but it was definitely him. _Holy shit! That's what I – I – I –_

Marty couldn't finish the thought. The shock was too much. Without a sound, he fainted dead away.

Tuesday, October 27th

4:52 P.M.

"_Hilldale?!_"

Both Doc and Jennifer looked horrified as they read the exit sign. "You're supposed to be out of that dump!" Doc said, eyes wide as the tentacles chattered wildly.

"No, no, this is a different part of Hilldale," Douglas rushed to say. "The regular Hilldale is kind of crappy, yeah – that's why they made Zemeckis Gardens. It's a really nice place, trust me."

"Man, I hope so," Jennifer muttered. "I was really hoping we had avoided the old future. . . ."

They landed on a corner just outside the main neighborhood. To Doc and Jennifer's relief, the place did look pretty nice, with well-kept houses and streets. "Yes, much better than the neighborhood I saw," Doc admitted, the tentacles "sighing" in relief. "Where's your house? Do you think I could just pull up in front of it and pass myself off as my older self?"

"It's down the street – let me check." Douglas got out and jogged up the street. A few minutes later, he returned, shaking his head. "No go – your older self just showed up in his DeLorean." Doc smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "I think it would be okay to leave the car here, as long as you lock it."

Doc frowned. "Are you sure?"

"You left it in the alley, didn't you? Crime's pretty light around Hill Valley, what with the huge sentences and all."

_**He would know what he's talking about, Father, **_Jules said. _**I think we can trust his judgement.**_

_**And he's right about us leaving it in the alley,**_ Verne added._** You wouldn't have done that if you didn't think it was safe**_.

"I know – it's just the alley had the advantage of cover," Doc said as he and Jennifer got out. "I understand that, if anything happened, you could have me here within minutes, but I still worry."

Tommy nuzzled his cheek. _**Everything will be fine, Father. We'll rescue Marty and we'll go home. Nothing to it!**_

_**Once again, you ignore the big picture, Tommy,**_ Albert clucked. _**What if Dave's still in the house? We can't exactly just waltz in and grab the teen.**_

_**Stop being such a spoilsport! We can figure out a way around that, right Father?**_

Doc smiled. "I'm sure that, between the seven of us, we can come up with something," he said, locking up the car. "Show the way, Douglas. I'm sure there's an unguarded back door or window we can try." They set off down the street, Verne grabbing the back of Jennifer's blouse so she didn't try to race ahead.

So intent were they on their goal that they didn't notice the taxi pull up behind the DeLorean. The back door opened, and Biff Tannen climbed out, still clutching the Blast From The Past bag. "That'll be $177.50," the driver said, holding out a payment device.

"Here," Biff snapped impatiently, pressing his thumb to the plate. The machine whirred, then printed a receipt on opaque yellow paper. Biff grabbed it and started hobbling toward the DeLorean.

"You have a good day now, sir!" the driver called after him, getting ready to fly off.

Biff couldn't help but grin at her. "Oh, I'm gonna!"

The driver returned the smile and left. Biff redirected his grin at the DeLorean. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that Dr. Brown had actually built a time machine. Brown was the local crackpot, the lunatic scientist everyone made fun of! The idea of him making something this amazing – Well, Biff supposed it really wasn't that amazing, given the guy's invention of the tentacles. But at least _those_ he had seen in comic books before. Time travel had seemed too – impossible.

But it wasn't impossible. It was real and it was sitting right before him. And now, Biff intended to benefit from it. His smile turned cruel. He had never liked Dr. Brown, or any of his friends the McFlys. It didn't seem fair that the geeks and nerds of the world got everything, while he got nothing. But now – now he had a chance to put them in their place. One trip through time, and Biff Tannen would be living the high life while they rotted in the gutter. Snickering, Biff hobbled up to the car and grabbed the door handle.

There was one small obstacle to overcome – the door was locked. But Biff hadn't spent all those years detailing cars without learning a thing or two about breaking locks. He dug through his pocket, found an old paperclip from something or other, and set to work.

A couple of minutes later, the door popped open. Biff pumped his fist in triumph and got in. He activated the hover conversion and rather clumsily flew off, working on figuring out the time circuit controls. He knew he would eventually have to return the DeLorean so that Brown and McFly wouldn't get suspicious, but he wasn't going to worry about that just yet.

After all, he had all the time in the world.

Tuesday, October 27th

4:55 P.M.

_**This room's a bathroom. With – a fax machine?**_

_Again?_ Doc peeked through the window. Sure enough, near the sink was a wall-mounted fax. "Just like in the old reality – Douglas, why do people have fax machines in their _bathrooms_?"

"It was a big fad in the early 2000s," Douglas shrugged. "We're mostly e-mail people ourselves, but some people still use faxes sometimes. Uncle Dave's got a briefcase model."

"Wow," Jennifer whistled. Then she frowned. "What's e-mail?"

"Let's put it this way, Jennifer – that home computer craze really takes off," Doc said as the tentacles tried to open the window. "You think something like faxes would be completely outdated by now."

"Yeah, but you'll never convince some people to abandon paper," Douglas said with another shrug.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened. The tentacles immediately ceased their attack on the window as Doc, Jennifer, and Douglas ducked out of sight. "Yeah, I hope so too, Jen," a voice said as someone entered the room. "I haven't a clue what would cause him to just faint like that."

Jennifer's eyes grew wide. "Holy shit," she whispered. "Is that--"

"Yup, that's Dad," Douglas said, smiling at the dumbfounded expression on her face.

"Whoa." Unable to help herself, she peeked inside. The tentacles did the same, very curious to see what their friend looked like older.

Future Marty shut the door, then checked the fax. He was definitely older – he had some wrinkles around his eyes and chin, and his hair was going gray at the edges. But other than that, he still looked fairly youthful. He was dressed in a black formal suit – as he turned, Jennifer and the tentacles noticed he was wearing two ties. They looked at Doc and Douglas, who just shrugged.

Future Marty, finding nothing of interest at the fax machine, headed toward the toilet. He was just about to unzip when, thankfully for all involved, he happened to glance toward the window. "You feel the power of – Holy _shit_!"

Future Marty jumped backwards, hands flying away from his zipper. "J-Jennifer? Tentacles? What are you guys doing out there?" He frowned. "And so much younger?"

"We ran into some problems," Jennifer admitted. "With our future kid."

"What?"

Douglas and Doc came into sight again. "Yeah, uh, hi Dad," Douglas said with a small wave.

"Douglas?! How did you--"

Future Marty turned pale as it hit him. "That's _me_ in the living room, isn't it? Damn it, I _thought_ something was up. . . ."

"Don't you remember being kidnapped by Dave?" Jennifer asked, puzzled.

"No!" He suddenly turned to Doc. "Why not?"

"Beats the shit out of us," Doc said. "Perhaps because it's happening at this point in time, the ripple effect hasn't had a chance to affect your memories yet. It does take a little time to work. . . ." Albert poked his shoulder and chattered. "Right, there's no time for a long discussion. Do you think you could get your younger self in here so we could switch him with Douglas?"

"Yeah, I think so. I'll need Jennifer's – my Jennifer's – help, though. Hang on a sec." Future Marty left the bathroom, looking rather shaken. The tentacles managed to get the window open as he left. Jules slipped inside, increasing his audio intake so Doc could hear what was going on. "Honey, can – hey, where's Dave?"

"His office paged him – they needed him to fax over some documents, and for once he didn't have his briefcase," Future Jennifer's voice replied. Jennifer nearly leapt ten feet in the air from shock. "He'll meet us at the theater. Are you all right? You look a little pale."

"Don't you faint on us, Dad," a different female voice said. Doc identified it as Marlene's from his previous memories. "Come on, Douglas, wake up!"

"Oh, good. Listen, can you guys help me get – him – into the bathroom?"

"The _bathroom_? Why?"

"You'll see when we get there."

"I'd kind of like to know_ now_."

"Any luck reviving him?"

Now it was Doc's turn to jump. "What? You join the party?" Douglas asked.

Doc and the tentacles nodded, pale. "Great Scott. It's – it's _odd_ to hear your own voice from this perspective. Hopefully I won't also be subjected to seeing my own face. . . ."

_**We won't let you faint if you do,**_ Verne promised.

"No – Dad wants to take him into the bathroom for some weird reason."

"The bathroom?"

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened again. For a moment, Doc thought it was Future Marty. Then a long, silver tentacle slipped in, claw wide. "What's in the – Great Scott!"

The tentacles squealed loudly upon seeing each other. Jules quickly looked back, as if to confirm that there indeed still three behind him. _**Ah – eep – bah–**_

_You all right? _Doc asked, worried. The tentacles' computer minds were highly advanced, but even the most advanced computer could suffer fatal errors.

_**Yes, just – surprised.**_

_**Whoa,**_ Tommy said, clacking his claw. _**This **_**is**_** weird.**_

_**Which one of us is it?**_ Albert asked, making a move to go closer, but deciding not to at the last moment. _**It's – um – hard to tell at this angle.**_

_**We'll probably find out in a moment,**_ Verne said. _**There's no way that Father – Future Father, that is – can ignore this.**_

Verne's theory was born out – as Jules and the other tentacle circled each other, Future Doc's voice came again. "Er – yes. We should bring him into the bathroom."

"What? What is it?" Marlene's voice demanded. "You went really pale for a minute there, and the tentacles are going nuts!"

"Well, considering Jules and I just saw my past self and _his_ tentacles lurking outside. . . ."

_**You're me?**_ Jules gasped, poking at the future tentacle. _**Amazing! I – I look pretty good.**_

Doc snorted. "Well, I imagine I'd keep up basic maintenance. . . ."

"What on earth would yo-_he_ want with Douglas?" Future Jennifer asked, sounding absolutely baffled.

"You're out there too, actually – along with Douglas."

". . .That's insane!" Marlene protested. "If Douglas is out there, then who the hell--"

Her voice suddenly died. "Wait – Freg, this is _Dad_, isn't it? No wonder he was acting weird!"

"Oh my God," Future Jennifer said. "I can't believe we didn't notice! I _thought_ he was wearing a yellow shirt today. . . ."

"Well, that and our eye color were really the only differences. You're just a hotbed of recessive genes, aren't you, Jen?"

"I must be."

A few moments later, Future Doc, Future Marty, Future Jennifer, and Marlene entered the bathroom. Future Doc was carrying the still unconscious Marty with his remaining three tentacles. Doc's own immediately went in to investigate. _**Crazy,**_ Jules muttered, squeaking.

_**We do look good though,**_ Verne said with a pleased buzz. _**We're all nice and shiny. You must finally get around to that cosmetic work.**_

_See, I told you!_

Jennifer closed her eyes tightly. "Ugh – I don't want to faint, but I'm curious as hell," she groaned.

Future Marty smirked. "You're as gorgeous as ever Jennifer," he said. "Though if you have to know something about what your future self looks like, you've currently got shorter hair."

"I wanted to try a new style," Future Jennifer shrugged, toying with a stray lock.

Douglas climbed in as they set Marty on the floor. "I'll go change while you guys work on him." He glanced at the younger version of his father, then did a double take. "_Jesus_! We do look alike!"

"What, seeing God knows how many videos and pictures wasn't enough to convince you?" Future Marty said, only half-jokingly.

"Yeah, yeah – but it's _different_, seeing it in person." Douglas shook his head. "Fregging _weird_."

"_You_ think it's strange?" Marlene retorted, eyeing Marty. "Man, I always knew I was built a little husky for a girl--"

Jennifer couldn't help but open her eyes and take a look at that. She'd always been a little skeptical of the idea that her daughter could look so much like Marty, despite joking about it earlier. But seeing Marlene in the flesh – well, that was enough proof for anyone. "Holy crap. I guess you and Douglas are twins?"

"Fraternal," Marlene and Douglas said in unison.

"Wow. Maybe I can hope the grandkids will look like me."

Marlene laughed. "Yeah, I know."

"We'll see," Douglas nodded. "Anyway – er – good luck with him." He left, mumbling to himself.

Both sets of tentacles looked at Marty. _**How should we attempt to wake him, Father?**_

The Docs thought, being careful not to look directly at each other. "I suppose a little poking or prodding in the right place should do it," Doc shrugged.

"Or else have the tentacles vocalize near his ear," FutureDoc suggested. "They sound a bit like an alarm clock when they laugh."

Tommy started buzzing in Marty's ear. Marty sleepily flopped a hand in the tentacle's direction. "Five more minutes," he mumbled.

Doc couldn't hide a snicker. "_Exactly_ like an alarm clock, I guess," he said as Tommy squeaked in protest. "Try it again."

Tommy did so. The other seven tentacles quickly joined in to create an interesting but very annoying harmony. After about a minute, Marty finally opened his eyes. "What the hell is – oh," he said, seeing the tentacles. "Oh, _shit_."

"Hey, Marty," Future Doc said, trying to sound reassuring. "How are you feeling? Are you all right?"

"I – I guess. I – did you just call me Marty?"

"Yes, we recently discovered the switch. Didn't you see that there are _eight_ tentacles above you?"

Marty did a count. "Oh, yeah," he said, blushing as the tentacles chattered chidingly at him. "Sorry. I think I'm still in shock from seeing my older self."

"Understandable," Doc said as his tentacles helped Marty up. "At least you were uninjured."

"Yeah." Marty shook his head. "That was – heavier than heavy. My brain just completely locked up." He paused. "Though I gotta say, I didn't look too bad."

Future Marty snorted. "Gee, thanks."

Marty jumped. "Wha?!"

"Just don't turn around."

"I don't plan to! Christ!" Marty looked over at Doc, putting on his best puppy-dog eyes. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I swear."

"I know, Marty. We're just lucky we managed to stumble upon your future son shortly after you were kidnapped."

"Not without having to meet up with Biff Tannen first, though," Jennifer added, making a face.

"Oh, him," Future Jennifer said. "Yeah, he's just a warped, frustrated old man. Now that he's too old to keep waxing cars, he spends his time hanging out at the Café 80s and complaining about the McFlys and Doc every chance he gets."

"We can believe it – he gave us a sample before we stumbled on Douglas," Doc nodded. "Anyway, we'd better be off. After this little incident, I think it's best that we had back to 1986 as soon as possible."

"I don't have a problem with that," Marty said. "I think I've seen enough of the future to last me a good, long while."

"Same here," Jennifer said, glancing around the bathroom. "Though I do kind of want to see the rest of the house."

"It really doesn't look all that different from anything back home, Jen. It's a nice place, though." Marty started to climb out the window, then paused as he remembered something. "Oh, yeah – J. J. mentioned something about him sending over some inventory stats today when I bumped into him at MPFreedom," he said over his shoulder, being careful not to look directly at his older self again.

"J. J.? When on earth did you meet him?" Doc demanded.

"Another accident, Doc," Marty quickly explained. "He apparently works at the music store in the mall. I'm guessing I do too."

"Yeah," Future Marty confirmed. "I won't say any more for fear of Doc bopping me one. Thanks for the heads-up – I'll check my e-mail before we head out."

"Come on, let's go before anyone sees us," Doc said, the tentacles looking around. Marty finished his exit. "Sorry about all this."

"It's okay," Future Jennifer said. "Though we'll probably need the car ride over to the theater to figure out what we're going to tell everyone about Douglas."

"Yeah – speaking of which, we'd better get moving too," Future Marty said, looking at his watch. "Have a safe trip, you guys."

"Thanks, you too." Marty and Jennifer gave a little wave, and they started walking as their counterparts filed out of the bathroom.

Marty shook his head as they left the house behind them. "That was _heavy_," he said. "Wild stuff."

"You _are_ all right, aren't you?" Jennifer asked, slipping her hand into his.

"Yeah, just a little – OUCH!"

"What happened?" Doc asked, looking back via Verne.

"Nothing, just kicked this stupid rock," Marty muttered, hopping up and down on one foot.

Albert suddenly jerked up. "Something wrong, kid?" Doc asked.

_**No, I – I just thought I heard a weird noise,**_ Albert said, looking left and right. _**Sounded rather like the sonic booms caused by temporal displacement.**_

Doc listened. He too thought he could hear an echo of the familiar triple boom. He frowned, then shook his head. "It's the future," he told the tentacle. "There's a few things around that could make those noises. And Douglas assured us this was a safe neighborhood. I'm sure the car's fine."

Despite his dismissal of Albert's worries, Doc couldn't help picking up the pace a little as they continued on. To his relief, the DeLorean was waiting for them just where they'd left it. Doc checked the lock and found it sound. "Good. Let's go home, everyone."

"Sure thing, Doc." Marty and Jennifer hopped in. The tentacles confirmed there was no one around, then they and Doc followed suit. Doc activated the hover conversion and headed for the skyway. "Okay, time circuits on – two hours from our original departure time should be sufficient." He programmed them for May 17th, 1986, 5:45 P.M. "Unless you think we should go back earlier or later?"

"That's fine with me," Marty said. "A little late for dinner, but I'll call Mom and Dad and say I'm grabbing some food at your place. They won't mind too much."

"And Dad usually has us eat at six, so not a problem for me either," Jennifer added.

"Good."

The skyway was quiet, a sign in their favor. Doc promptly hit the gas. Within moments, they hit the magic number. A brilliant flash, three sonic booms – and suddenly, the sky around them was a lot emptier and a lot darker. Marty frowned as they looked around. "I don't remember it being this cloudy when we left. . . . Did we make it? Are we back?" he asked Doc worriedly.

Before Doc could reply, an airplane soared right over their heads, rattling the DeLorean. Everyone inside screamed and grabbed for something. Luckily, the pilots didn't notice anything unusual, and the plane flew off as quickly as it had come. Doc took a deep breath, looking like ten years had been spooked out of him. "We're back."

"Ground. NOW," Jennifer said, still holding tightly to Tommy. The tentacles frantically nodded their agreement.

"Sorry, I had no idea this was commercial airspace in this time. . . Perhaps if I'm going to do this on a regular basis I should look up flight schedules and patterns. . . ."

They landed back near Clayton Ravine and started on the long drive back to J.F.K. Drive. Marty opened his window a bit – and made a face. "Ugh! What's that smell?"

Doc and Jennifer sniffed and made faces of their own. "Someone must be having a fire somewhere."

"Must be one hell of a fire." Marty shook his head. "I dunno, Doc. Something still feels – off – about this place."

Doc frowned – then winced as they went over another pothole. "I'll agree that something certainly appears to be wrong with the _road_. I don't recall driving over this many potholes when we came down this way. Kids?"

_**Neither do we,**_ Jules confirmed. _**It's possible that one side of the road is in worse shape than the other, but highly unlikely.**_

_**Yeah,**_ Albert agree with a worried chirp. _**I'm with Marty. Something's wrong.**_

_**Are the time circuits set correctly?**_ Verne asked, curling over the top of the seat for a look.

"They should be – May 17th, 1986, 5:45 P.M.," Doc confirmed. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Then again, just as we left, I thought I noticed something odd about the Last Time Departed display. It looked like it read 1955 for some reason."

"Wait – you mean the time circuits could be broken?" Marty asked, going pale.

"The other two displays were showing correctly," Doc quickly said. "And the Last Time Departed one is working fine now. I suspect it was just a minor technical glitch – it happens occasionally. Once we get home, the kids and I will open it up and make sure there aren't any pesky electrical shorts or failing light bulbs."

Marty nodded, still looking nervous. "You're the Doc, Doc. But I still say something's wrong with the year we landed in."

"Me too," Jennifer said, looking out the window. "It seems way too quiet. And too dark."

"We are on a back road. And it's not impossible that a storm moved in while we were--"

BUMP! "Damn it! At this rate, we're going to damage an axle!"

_**Perhaps it would be safer to take to the air again,**_ Jules suggested.

Marty had the same idea. "Nobody's around to see us. Why don't you switch back to fly mode? I really want to get back to the lab – I'm getting the creeps."

"Very well, if it'll make you feel better. God knows I'm sick of all these holes." Doc hit the hover conversion switch and started flying close to the ground.

They made it back to J.F.K. Drive without incident. But as they pulled up to the lab, Doc gasped and hit the brakes. "Great Scott!"

"Wha – Holy shit!"

Doc's home was destroyed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Saturday, May 17th, 1986

Hill Valley

5:51 P.M.

The tentacles gawked. _**F-Father?**_ Tommy finally asked, sounding frightened. _**Father, what happened?**_

"I – I don't know," Doc whispered. Automatically, he looked back at the time circuits. "It _says_ 1986!"

Marty opened his door and took a better look. Doc's home was barely recognizable – graffiti covered every surface, the walls were beginning to crumble in upon themselves, and there was trash everywhere. "It doesn't look like anyone's lived here for years, Doc."

"You're _sure_ we're in the right year?" Jennifer asked, shivering.

"I don't see how we couldn't be!" Doc looked around at the dirty street. "This can't be the future, and it's definitely _not_ the past!"

_**Perhaps we should investigate,**_ Jules suggested. _**We're not likely to learn much about the situation just by sitting here.**_

"You have a point, Jules. Let's see what's going on." The three humans got out of the car and headed for the front gate.

The tentacles scanned the streets, looking for signs of life. _**Look at all the wrecked cars!**_ Tommy said. _**It's like this place is a scrap heap!**_

_**The Burger King appears to be open,**_ Albert noted. _**Empty, though. Which is good – I don't think we want to be seen.**_

_**Not in these clothes, anyway,**_ Verne agreed, looking at everyone's future attire. _**Should we go inside and attempt to procure more time-appropriate garments?**_

"We could try, but I doubt we'd find anything," Doc admitted, opening the gate and beginning to pick his way over to his house. "But I admit, I am curious to see if the inside of this place is as bad as the outside."

"Bet you a million bucks it is," Marty muttered, he and Jennifer following in the scientist's wake. "Jesus, Doc, what _happened_?"

"That's what I intend to find out."

Something went CRACK under Doc's sneaker as they reached the front door. Looking down, Doc saw he'd crushed a syringe. He shuddered. "Be careful what you touch," he called to the teenagers, who were poking around the debris. "I just found a needle."

Marty and Jennifer were back at his side in a instant. "A needle?" Marty repeated. "People might be shooting up here?"

"Doc, I don't want to get sick!" Jennifer said. "Especially not from drugs – or – or worse, AIDS!"

"Just be careful what you touch," Doc said soothingly, though he could understand their fear. The concept of getting ill in this place didn't appeal to him in the least. He let Jules open the door, just in case.

The inside of the lab turned out to be worse than the outside. Doc and the tentacles felt a painful twinge as they saw the ruined equipment scattered everywhere. Not one piece of metal or glassware had survived. _My life's work, destroyed so easily,_ Doc thought, his stomach churning with a mix of anger and grief.

The furniture too was all wrecked – Doc spotted the remains of a bonfire in the corner that appeared to have pieces of his bed and bookshelves. Every light was smashed, and the walls and floor were covered with graffiti. The place also stunk, the lingering traces of drugs mixing with the scent of human waste – and something else that reminded Doc of decomposition. Maybe some animal had wandered inside and died. "Great Scott," Doc moaned as the tentacles squeaked. "My poor home. . . ."

Marty whistled. "This is heavy. They really did a number on this place, didn't they?"

Jennifer cautiously took a few steps inside. "You really have no idea what happened?"

"Not a clue," Doc said with a slow shake of his head. "This is insane."

The tentacles extended outward, investigating the piles of debris for clues. Verne, poking around in the leftmost corner, suddenly yelped and shut off his camera. Puzzled, Doc turned in his direction. _**No, Father,**_ the tentacle warned him, _**don't look.**_

"What? Why?"

Verne drooped. _**It's Einstein.**_

Doc's stomach twisted. "Einy? He's--" Verne nodded. "Oh, God. . ."

Marty nudged the remains of Doc's breakfast machine with a sneaker. "Doc, we gotta figure out what happened. It's like we're in hell or something."

"Agreed. Let's go to the library – the newspaper archives would be a fundamental resource."

"Doesn't that mean we'll have to go through the town square?"

"Yes. That'll probably provide a wealth of information in itself." Doc glanced at a particularly obscene verse written on the floor. "Though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing at this point."

Jennifer looked around and shuddered. "Doc, I'm scared."

The tentacles wrapped comfortingly around her. "So are we," Doc admitted. "But we need to get to the bottom of this. I won't let anyone--"

A noise outside caught their attention. Albert shot over to the door. _**Great Scott! Father, someone's sniffing around the DeLorean!**_

Doc immediately turned around and ran outside. A young man in a black hoodie and ripped jeans was trying the doorhandle of the car. "Hey! You!" Doc yelled, the tentacles rising up and hissing.

The boy snapped up and around, yanking a gun out of the back of his pants. "Don't screw around--"

He froze as he got a good look at Doc, the gun falling from his fingers. "Holy shit!" he yelled, going pale.

Doc was startled too. The teen looked surprisingly familiar. "Needles?"

This seemed to terrify the boy all the more. "Crap! Guys, we'd better scram! Crazy Old Brown is out, and – freaking hell!"

And with that, he turned and ran. Doc and the tentacles stared after him. _**Well, at least he stopped messing with the car,**_ Tommy said.

A group of four boys jogged over, apparently attracted by Needles's screams. They too gaped and turned white as they beheld Doc and the kids. "Holy shit, what are those things?"

"I dunno, but they look pretty deadly," another said, glancing nervously at his gun.

"They're attached to Lunatic Brown! Of course they're deadly!" a third yelled. "You know he's a freakshow!"

The tentacles hissed loudly. The boys backed up. "What's going on here?" Doc demanded, though he really didn't think he was going to get any answers out of them. "What are you kids doing?"

"Nothing," the first boy said with a nervous smile. "Just – walkin'."

"Dude, let's get out of here," the third said, yanking on his friend's sleeve. "That guy's majorly unstable."

"Wait a minute! Who wrecked my house?"

"The Skullcrushers," the fourth said quickly. "Not us! We swear!"

"Dude! He's got – he – those – _tentacles!_" The second suddenly yanked out his gun and pointed it at Doc's chest. "Damn, man, what the hell are you?!"

The tentacles reacted immediately. Tommy yanked the gun from the teen's hands while Albert's spike shot out threateningly. The teen screamed and ran down the street, his fellow gang members following. "Shit! Tell everybody the Brown Place is out of business!"

Marty and Jennifer stared from the doorway. "Was that really Needles and his gang?" Marty asked.

Doc nodded. "I'd know their faces anywhere. Though I've never seen them quite like _that_."

_**What do you think Needles meant by "Crazy Old Brown is out?"**_ Jules wondered.

"I think we'll find out at the library." Doc looked at the DeLorean. "But first, let's move this inside. I don't know if I should be driving it around. Besides the obvious possible damage from potholes, I don't want to take the risk of it getting stolen. The gangs will at least know now to stay away from this place."

_**Good idea,**_ Albert said. _**And we can disguise it with some of the junk too.**_

"Precisely."

The tentacles carefully lifted the car out of the road and carried it into the garage. Doc locked it up securely while the tentacles covered it in debris. After a quick visual inspection, Doc was satisfied the DeLorean was well hidden. "Good job, kids." He motioned to Marty and Jennifer. "Climb on my back – traveling by tentacle will get us where we want to go quicker."

"Sure you can carry both of us?" Jennifer asked.

"I really only need two of the tentacles to 'walk' – Jules and Verne can help secure you if you need the help." The upper tentacles nodded.

Marty shook his head as he climbed on. "We'd better figure out what's going on – and soon."

Saturday, May 17th

6:18 P.M.

"Oh. . .my. . .God."

Everyone stared as they entered the town square. It was like they had just walked into a scene out of a nightmare. Or a particularly sleazy part of Vegas, judging from all the neon and signs for nude girls. "What _happened_?" Jennifer breathed as the tentacles set them down.

"I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to," Doc admitted, looking around. The square was dark and dingy, an awful thing made of concrete and refuse. The empty storefronts were open again, but the stores had changed drastically. Everything seemed to be all about sex, liquor, and drugs. Homeless people crowded in the middle of the square, eating food from cans and pushing shopping carts full of junk. Bikers occasionally roared by, most with a pretty girl or two on their backs. Luckily, none of them took too close a look at the threesome or the tentacles.

And towering over it all was the biggest, gaudiest hotel any of them had ever seen. Steel grey punctuated by lines of bright neon pink, it sat on what had once been the Clock Tower, stretching almost 30 stories into the sky. A large sign proclaimed it, of all things, "Biff Tannen's Pleasure Paradise," with a picture of Biff himself, lighting a cigar off a 100 bill, smack-dab in the center.

The tentacles stared. _**Father – is – is that – is that really –**_ Verne stammered.

_**The profile is a perfect match, Verne,**_ Jules said. _**I believe we can safely conclude that this is, indeed, **_**the**_** Biff Tannen.**_

_**When did he get a **_**hotel**_**?!**_ Albert demanded, horrified. _**From what we know of him, he should **_**not**_** be in charge of any large business operation like that! Or, frankly, any business operation at all!**_

Like a moth to the flame, Marty walked toward the building. "What the hell?"

"Marty, be careful," Doc said, following. Jennifer trailed close behind, obviously not eager to be left alone in this strange place. "We don't want to attract too much attention."

_**Yeah, we shouldn't linger here,**_ Tommy nodded. _**In addition to all the yucky stores and scary people, I just saw something that called itself a 'toxic waste reclamation plant.' And it doesn't look anywhere **_**near**_** safe.**_

_**Great – we're in danger of mutating too,**_ Albert muttered, screeching in annoyance.

"We shouldn't stick around to gawk," Doc agreed, not even wanting to think about the dangers of toxic waste. "Sooner or later someone's going to recognize me again, and who knows what might happen? Marty, you--"

"He's got a fricking museum?!" Marty glanced back at his friends in horror. "A _museum_! Look!"

Doc looked, curious despite himself. Sure enough, next to the entrance to the hotel was a small museum, fronted by a rather ugly wax statue of Biff. His lip turned. "Ugh."

Tommy sneaked closer to examine a sign. _**Smoking **_**required**_**?**_

_**Well, it's not like the regular air is much better,**_ Jules admitted, shaking his claw. _**According to my readings, it's very heavily polluted.**_

_**How do you feel, Father?**_ Verne asked, sounding suddenly worried. _**Are you ill at all?**_

"No," Doc reassured him. Then, seeing a video on Biff's life start up on a nearby TV, he added, "But give me a minute."

Marty wandered even closer as the video began, seemingly hypnotized. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Biff Tannen museum!" the narrator proclaimed, in what Doc felt was an inappropriately cheerful voice. "Dedicated to Hill Valley's number one citizen, and America's greatest living folk hero, the one, the only Biff Tannen! Of course, we've all heard the legend, but who is the man? Inside you will learn how Biff Tannen became one of the richest and most powerful men in America."

"Unbelievable," Marty muttered. Doc, Jennifer, and the tentacles nodded in stunned agreement.

"Learn the amazing history of the Tannen family, starting with the great-grandfather Buford 'Mad Dog' Tannen, fastest gun in the West!" A sepia-tone picture of a gunslinger with a surprising resemblance to Biff flashed on-screen. "See Biff's humble beginnings, and how a trip to the racetrack on his 21st birthday made him a millionaire overnight!"

The screen changed to show Biff holding up first stacks of cash, then a huge check in front of a crowd of reporters. Doc frowned as he watched the video. There seemed to be something odd in Biff's jacket pocket. . . .

Before he could send one of the tentacles to investigate, though, the picture had vanished, replaced with spinning images of Biff on the front page of the Hill Valley Telegraph. Each paper sported headlines like "Biff Wins Again." "Share in the excitement of a fabulous winning streak, that earned him the nickname 'The Luckiest Man on Earth!'"

"When did the whole world go insane?" Jennifer asked weakly.

"Learn how Biff parlayed that lucky winning streak into the vast empire called Biffco." Now there were shots of smokestacks and factories. "Discover how, in 1979, Biff successfully lobbied to legalize gambling--" Another spinning headline "–and turned Hill Valley's dilapidated courthouse into a beautiful casino/hotel."

Doc's fists clenched. Ever since that fateful night in 1955, he'd held a special fondness for the courthouse and the Clock Tower. To see them so degraded. . . .

_**Hey, who are those people?**_ Verne suddenly asked, looking to the side. Through the camera link, Doc saw a trio of men moving toward Marty. One had very close-cropped hair, the second wore a cowboy hat and sucked on a match, and the third wore a pair of dark glasses with red and green lenses. Doc recognized them as Biff's old gang – Skinhead, Match, and 3-D respectively. _**I don't like the look of them.**_

_**Me either,**_ Albert agreed with a soft hiss. _**And they're headed directly for Marty! I say we strike!**_

_Hang on just a second,_ Doc replied, putting a hand on the tentacle. _We don't want them to notice us. Let's make sure we retain the element of surprise._

The video continued on. "Meet the women who shared in his passion as he searched for true love!" Pictures of Biff with various models and starlets appeared. Jennifer snorted in disbelief at a picture of Biff with Marilyn Monroe. "And relive Biff's happiest moment, as in 1973 he realized his lifelong dream by marrying his high school sweetheart – Lorraine Baines McFly!"

Before their horrified eyes, footage of a church appeared, surrounded by reporters. Biff and Lorraine emerged – Biff looking smug, Lorraine angry and depressed. Biff was dragging her down the steps when someone stuck a microphone in his face. "How do you feel, Mr. Tannen?"

Biff smirked. "Third time's the charm," he replied cheerfully. Then he turned and started practically licking Lorraine.

Marty's response summed up all their feelings. "NOOO!" he screamed, stumbling backwards –

And right into the arms of Biff's gang. "Take it easy, sonny-boy!" Match said, grabbing Marty's arm. "You're coming with us upstairs."

"Let me go!" Marty yelled, pulling away.

"Hey, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way," Skinhead informed him with an evil grin as 3-D pulled out a blackjack.

WHAM! The bullies collapsed as Verne, Albert, and Tommy smashed them over the heads. "The easy way," Doc said as Jules chittered appreciatively. "Come on, Marty, let's get out of here."

Marty walked slowly back to the scientist and his girlfriend, face pale. "She couldn't – she – Doc, how could she leave Dad for _him_?" he asked, eyes wide with shock.

"That is what we must find out." Doc lifted both teenagers and held them tight as the tentacles carried them away. "Hill Valley Library, kids – if it's still there."

Saturday, May 17th

6:27 P.M.

It was, though it wasn't open. The windows were all boarded up, and, like Doc's garage, graffiti covered every surface. Doc directed the tentacles to yank the doors open. _**Isn't this illegal, though?**_ Tommy asked as they pulled the doors off their hinges.

"Yes, but I doubt anyone in this twisted world will care. We have to find out what went wrong."

_**Father, I think we already know,**_ Albert said quietly. _**At least in part.**_

Doc winced and nodded. "You're right. Biff must have somehow stolen the DeLorean and changed history. I somehow doubt he's intelligent enough to create his _own_ time machine."

"Stolen the DeLorean? But when? How?" Marty demanded.

"Didn't you always lock the car?" Jennifer added.

"I did, but the locks aren't unbreakable. And we did leave the DeLorean unattended twice." Doc sighed and massaged his forehead. "I knew I should have updated the locks while I was making all those other improvements. . . . Well, too late now. Now we have to find out what exactly Biff did in the past so we can correct it."

Marty shook his head. "I still can't believe it. My mom and Biff. . . ."

Jennifer hugged him. "We'll stop that from happening."

"Trust me, kid, it's a top priority," Doc agreed, the tentacles nodding wildly. "Let's get inside and start looking for clues."

The inside of the library was comfortingly familiar, if extremely dusty. Doc, Marty, and Jennifer wiped off a table while the tentacles raided the newspaper archives. "Look for major events," Doc instructed the teens as the tentacles dumped the papers on the table. "Especially Biff's first big win. I thought I saw something suspicious in that photograph."

"Can do," Marty said, flipping open a collection.

There was silence for a moment as they searched, flipping rapidly through the bound papers. Then Jennifer gasped. "Oh my God."

"What?" Doc asked, the tentacles hovering around him. "Have you found it already?"

"No – but I did find out why your garage is abandoned." She slid the collection over so they all could see it.

Doc's insides turned to ice. The headline read, "EMMETT BROWN COMMITTED." A smaller subheadline added, "Crackpot Inventor Declared Legally Insane." Below both was a picture of himself, being restrained in a straitjacket by two orderlies. "Great Scott. . . ."

**Committed**_**?!**_ Jules squealed, waving around wildly. _**Why were you committed?! **_**When**_** were you committed?**_

Doc checked the date on the newspaper. "May 23rd, 1983," he said softly. "So probably the day before – or perhaps, if it was a late breaking story, that very day."

"Holy shit," Marty whispered. "No wonder Needles's gang freaked out when they saw you. Uh, you know, besides the obvious. . . ."

_**1983?**_ Verne said. _**Then – then we don't even exist here, do we?**_

_**I don't want to not exist!**_ Tommy cried, trying to cuddle up to his father.

Doc patted his claw. 'It's all right, Tommy. We'll be out of here before you can erase from existence."

"Erase from existence?" Marty repeated, eyes widening. "You mean, the tentacles--"

Doc nodded solemnly. "Biff's changes prevented their conception, so to speak. If I'm stuck in an insane asylum, I can't very well come up with their design, can I? Hell, we're _all_ in danger here."

Marty blinked a few times, confused. "But Biff didn't muck around with my parents meeting. 1973 was way after any of us were born."

"And I doubt he even knows who my parents are," Jennifer said.

"Erasure doesn't only occur if you prevent your conception. Since we were outside the normal timestream when the world changed, we were immune to its effects. But that won't last forever. We already _have_ counterparts, here, as shown by this article. We ourselves cannot survive in this world."

Marty looked at the article. "I don't get it, Doc. Do you mean we have doubles here? Like, you're both here _and_ sitting in a cell at Southdale?"

"Maybe. I admit, I don't know how the mechanics of a situation like this would work. However, all the scenarios I've come up with aren't exactly favorable to our continued survival." Doc began counting them off on his fingers. "We may indeed have doubles here – in which case, we'll most likely fade out eventually, being from a redundant timeline. Or, our doubles could have vanished upon our arrival, on the theory that only one 'us' can exist at any one time. In that case, it's probable that, as time passes, we will _become_ our doubles, gaining their memories and perhaps any physical characteristics that we don't already share." Then tentacles chattered nervously.

"Sort of like I got all the memories of growing up with my good parents once I got home from 1955?" Marty said.

"Yes, exactly," Doc said with a slight smile. "I'm not sure if our physical locations would change in the bargain, but it's possible."

"But isn't there a chance we won't fade out or turn into our doubles?" Jennifer asked, looking quite disturbed by the whole conversation.

"Yes, I suppose – but do you really want to be stuck living here for the rest of your life?"

Jennifer winced. "Good point. I guess we should be thankful nobody's recognized you except that gang, and they didn't seem interested in telling anybody."

"I bet if anyone did, seeing the tentacles convinced them they were hallucinating," Marty said.

"I certainly hope so," Doc said. "Come on, let's get searching. We don't know how long we have." They went back to scanning the newspapers.

Marty was the next to find something. The tentacles squeaked as the teen's eyes filled with tears. "Marty?" Doc asked softly.

Marty turned his collection around. "At least now I know she didn't leave Dad."

Doc's heart sank even lower as he saw the headline: "GEORGE MCFLY MURDERED – Local Author Killed En-Route to Receive Award." "Great Scott, this is awful. Marty, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, no," Jennifer whispered, biting her nails.

Marty sniffed. "I – I guess I kind of knew already," he admitted. "I mean, how stupid would Mom have to be to leave Dad for _Biff_? I – I just – oh, please, God, no. . . ."

Doc, the tentacles, and Jennifer all wrapped Marty in hugs as he began to cry. "It'll be all right," Doc said soothingly. "We'll figure out what happened and stop it."

"Yeah," Jennifer agreed. "Your Dad is gonna be fine." She kissed his cheek. "In the meantime, we're here for you." The tentacles softly chittered in agreement.

"Thanks." Marty wiped his eyes. "Sorry for acting like a baby. I just – I don't want to think about Mom and Dad – you know. . . ."

"It's natural, Marty," Doc said. "No child wants to think about their parents, or anyone else they love, dying. You know very well how I'd feel if anything happened to the boys."

"Yeah." Marty looked back at the paper. "March 16th, 1973. I can't believe – 1973?" Marty's grief was suddenly replaced by anger. "That _asshole_! He married my mom the same year! Did he even wait for my dad to be buried before he moved in?" His fists clenched. "He killed Dad. I just know it."

"I'd agree that's a distinct possibility," Doc nodded. "I do wonder why your mother said yes, though."

"Biff probably threatened her," Jennifer said, scowling. "I wouldn't put it past that jerk. Christ, I wonder what happened to my own parents."

"I don't think you'd want to know." Marty pulled his collection back. "Come on, guys, we gotta figure out what the hell Biff did." He began rapidly flipping through the bound papers, blinking back his tears.

Doc and Jennifer nodded and returned to work themselves, moving as quickly through the books as they dared. Lorraine's reasons for marrying Biff became clearer as Marty found an article naming her as a primary suspect in George's death. Predictably, she was only cleared once she accepted Biff's proposal. The teen let loose a string of profanities as he found the newspaper detailing the wedding. "I'm gonna kill him. I swear to God, Doc, I'm gonna kill him."

Jennifer patted her boyfriend's back soothingly before giving Doc a worried look. Doc could tell she was a little disturbed by Marty's rage. Doc found it a little extreme for his friend too – but then again, the teen _had_ just found out one of his most hated people had murdered his father and married his mother. Perhaps the response was to be expected. "Let's fix this before going on any murderous rampages," he said, hoping to cool Marty down a bit. Marty just grumbled as he continued flipping.

Jennifer found the obituaries of her parents, leading to another break as the boys comforted her. The tentacles spotted the article announcing the opening of Biffco, which turned out to be a set of nuclear waste processing plants. _**Holy cow, we **_**are**_** in danger of mutating!**_ Tommy cried.

_**I wouldn't worry too much about it, Tommy,**_ Jules reassured his brother. _**We haven't been in contact with anything known to be radioactive – I don't think. But it doesn't say anything positive about the current environment, does it? No wonder the air smells so horrible.**_

Verne rubbed up against Marty and Jennifer. _**I hope none of us get sick.**_

Albert grabbed another volume of newspapers. _**I'm more worried about the possibility of us fading from existence. Referencing Father's memories, according to Marty, it **_**hurts**_**.**_

"We'll be out of here before that becomes a threat," Doc promised. "Or before one of us gets sick from the current environmental conditions," he added as Verne chattered at him. "In fact, I want to be out of here by tomorrow night at the latest. Considering my current situation, it's highly inadvisable to stay in this version of Hill Valley."

Jennifer nodded, flipping through her third collection. "At least the tentacles can take care of anyone--"

Tommy, scanning the papers over her shoulder, suddenly let out a loud screek. Jennifer jumped. "Tommy! You nearly scared me half to death!" she protested, pressing a hand to her chest. "What is it?"

Tommy turned the pages back a few times and pointed. Sitting in front of them was the paper for March 27th, 1958 – with a picture of Biff hoisting a huge check on the front. "Hey! I've got it!"

Doc and Marty immediately dragged their chairs over. "Yes! That's the paper from the video!" Doc said, grinning. "Good work, Jennifer!"

"Thank Tommy, he's the one who spotted it."

"Good job then, Tommy," Doc said, patting the tentacle as he skimmed the text. Biff had apparently walked into the local racetrack and bet 200 on a longshot. The race had been a close one, but Biff's horse had come through, netting him an even million. "'I'm just a lucky guy,' he told reporters. Hah. Your older self told you the score or--"

Doc paused and frowned. Now that he could get a better look at the picture, he could see some sort of book sticking out of Biff's jacket pocket. _What is that? Jules, can you see if you can magnify that with your camera?_

_**I'll try**_. Jules leaned over the paper and zoomed in. The image was grainy, but Doc still thought the book looked familiar. Where had he seen it before? _Can any of you read the title?_

Jules zoomed in further. _**I – I **_**think**_** it says Grey's Sports Almanac.**_ There was a pause._** Wait a minute. Grey's Sports Almanac?!**_

"Great Scott!" Doc gasped. "He must have overheard us while we were talking to Douglas! Damn it!"

"Huh?" Marty suddenly looked hopeful. "You figure out what happen, Doc?"

"I believe I have." Doc pulled the article out of the collection and folded it up. "Let's go back to my garage, I can explain better there. And, frankly, after what I just learned, I don't feel safe leaving the DeLorean alone anymore."

_**Plus, maybe we can find some more evidence in the car,**_ Albert suggested. _**If he really did steal it.**_

"Of that I have no doubt."

The teens frowned impatiently, but got up. Marty tore out the page of the paper detailing his father's death and tucked into his pocket. The tentacles did the same with the paper showing Doc being committed before returning the collections to their proper places. Then they helped the teens onto Doc's back and headed back to the lab as quickly as possible.

The garage and DeLorean appeared untouched, much to everyone's relief. Doc had the tentacles search the car for evidence while he located his old blackboard. "Ready yet?" Marty asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The tentacles emerged from the car with their prizes. "Yes," Doc said. "I wanted to have some visual aids handy, just to make sure you all understood." He took a deep breath, switching into "Lecture Mode." "As I previously postulated, Biff must have stolen the time machine one of the times we left it unattended, thus disrupting the temporal event sequence we know and creating an alternate reality."

Jennifer blinked rapidly. "Huh?"

"Try it in English, Doc," Marty said.

"Better yet, let me illustrate." Doc picked up some chalk and drew a line across the blackboard. "Imagine that this line represents time. Here's the present, 1986--" he labeled the middle of the line "– the future – and the past." He glanced back at the teenagers. "With me so far?"

They nodded. "Good. Now, prior to this point in time, somewhere in the past, the timeline skewed into this tangent, creating an alternate 1986." He drew a diagonal off from his previous line and labeled it 1986-A. "Alternate for all of us, that is, but reality for everyone else."

"Leading to that weird doubles stuff you mentioned before?" Marty asked.

"Exactly," Doc nodded.

"Okay. But what happened in the past? What did Biff do?"

Albert went up to them, clutching a silver bag in his claw. Doc sighed. "Recognize this, Jennifer?"

"What is it?" Marty asked, puzzled.

"It's the bag from Blast To The Past," Jennifer replied, stunned. "My bag?"

"Your bag," Doc said as Tommy joined his brother. "The receipt for the almanac was still inside." Tommy handed the slip of blue paper to her for inspection.

"_What_ almanac? What did I miss while I was being kidnapped by Dave?" Marty demanded.

"Remember that Grey's Sports Almanac in the window of Blast To The Past?" Jennifer asked, blushing. "It had the sports statistics for every game you could think of from 1950 to 2000. I bought it, figuring I could sneak it back and use it in case of emergency."

Marty slapped his hand to his face. "Jennifer! I _told_ you Doc wouldn't go for that!"

"I know! Doc, you threw that book away! How'd it--"

Verne held up what looked like a broken piece of a cane. The top was molded into the shape of a metal fist. Jennifer went deathly pale as she remembered where she'd seen a cane like that before. "No. . . ."

"Yes," Doc sighed. "Biff must have retrieved the sports book, stolen the time machine, gone back in time, and given the book to himself at some point in the past." He drew an arc on his diagram from the future to the past. "That's how he made his entire fortune!" He abruptly turned to his tentacles. "I'll show you – Jules, can you find me a magnifying glass?"

Jules hunted through the trash, screeching with triumph when he found a broken lens. Doc cleared off a table and laid the Biff paper flat. "Here – look in his pocket," he said, motioning the teens forward.

Marty took the lens and held it over the picture. He cursed softly as the book came into focus. "Perfect, just perfect. . . ."

Jennifer sniffled. "Oh God, it's all my fault," she whispered. "He must have had the same idea I did. If only I hadn't bought that book. . . ." She dissolved into tears. "Marty, Doc, kids, I'm so sorry. . . ."

"Oh – Jennifer, don't cry," Marty said, dropping the lens and putting his arms around her. "How could you have known that asshole would do this? It's not your fault he got the book."

_**Yes – it's Father's, actually,**_ Albert said as he and the other tentacles chittered at the girl. _**You really should have chosen a more secure receptacle to dispose of it in.**_

"Yes, yes, I know," Doc said. He put a hand on Jennifer's shoulder. "I know it seems bad – hell, it is bad – but it's not unfixable. At least Biff returned the time machine. For what purpose, I don't know, but he did. We can go back and prevent his fiddling. But I can't have one of my assistants derailed by hysterics." He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "Buck up. It'll all be all right. It's all in the past."

"You mean the future," Marty said.

"Whatever."

Marty snapped his fingers suddenly. "Hey, yeah, the future! All we have to do is go to the future and stop Biff from ever taking the time machine!"

Doc shook his head. "We can't, much as I'd love to. If we travel into the future from _this_ point in time, it will be the future of _this_ reality. In which Biff is corrupt, and powerful--" he made a face "– and married to your mother, and in which I have been committed, and Jennifer has had something unsavory happen to her, no doubt."

"But – we _left_ from our own future!"

Doc shrugged. "We know from experience that it takes the ripple effect a little time to catch up. Perhaps we left just before it did. Or maybe even during – we'd already left the house by the time Biff brought the car back, if those sounds Albert heard were any indication. Who knows what might have happened while we were walking away. The important thing is, if we went forward from this time now, we'd see the future of this world."

Marty scowled. "Damn. I suppose I should have known better than to think it would be that easy."

Doc nodded. "Our only hope to repair the present is in the _past_," he said, as Jules poked at the appropriate place on the chalkboard. "_Before_ the timeline skewed. We have to find out the exact date and the specific circumstances of how, where, and when young Biff got his hands on that Sports Almanac."

"1958," Jennifer said immediately, finally managing to stop the flow of tears. "That's when he first used it."

Jules shook his claw and pointed at the time display in the DeLorean. "He may have _used_ it in 1958, but I don't think that's when he first received it," Doc said. "Remember how I said I saw 1955 on the Last Time Departed display? I'd bet good money that's when Biff went." He scowled, annoyed with himself. "Damn it, why didn't I look more closely at the exact date? We could have avoided a lot of this mess. . . ."

"But Jennifer's got a point," Marty said. "We know exactly when Biff first used the damn thing. Can't we just go to March 1st, 1958 or something and get it from him then?"

_**It sounds reasonable enough to me,**_ Verne agreed.

"It would make a good Plan B," Doc said with a nod. "But if Biff did receive the almanac in 1955, it wouldn't surprise me if he used legal friends and relatives to place bets for him before his 21st birthday. And I were Biff--"

_**Now **_**there's**_** a truly frightening thought,**_ Albert interrupted.

"– I'd copy at least a few of the big scores down someplace else, in case something happened to the book. I'd also get a safe at the soonest opportunity." Doc shook his head. "I want to get that book away from him before he gets a chance to do _anything_ with it."

Nobody could argue with that logic. "But how are we going to find out when he got the book?" Jennifer asked.

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Marty straightened up. "I'll ask him."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Saturday, May 17th, 1986

Hill Valley

6:53 P.M.

It was easier than they expected to get into the Pleasure Paradise. A little research revealed that Biff's private suite of rooms was located on the 27th floor. Doc and Jennifer thus dropped Marty off on the roof, not wanting to risk running into anyone downstairs. "We'll be nearby if you need us – I have some purchases I want to make, but I'll return as quickly as possible," Doc said. "Get in and out as fast as you can. Try not to tip your hand. If he claims you're supposed to be dead, _run_. We may need information, but your safety is paramount."

"Marty, are you sure you want to do this?" Jennifer added, chewing her lip with worry.

"It's the easiest way, right? I'm Biff's--" Marty swallowed and forced himself to actually say the word "– _stepchild_, so he'll probably expect to see me around. I hope."

"Still--"

"It'll be fine, Jennifer. I'll weasel the info out of him, then run back up here to meet you guys. You know I'm pretty fast on my feet. And I can _definitely_ outthink Biff Tannen."

Doc and Jennifer frowned, but nodded. "Just be careful," Jennifer said, kissing him.

"Good luck, kid," Doc said, shaking his hand. The tentacles chattered, lightly squeezing the teen.

"Thanks. You too." Marty watched as the DeLorean flew away, then headed down the trap door into the hotel.

The 27th floor wasn't hard to find – it was right below the stairs to the roof. Marty checked the hallway twice for guests before entering. The inside of the hotel was just as gaudy as the outside, with lots of gold and pink. Marty made a face. _Why the hell Biff likes this, I'll never know._

He stopped in front of an elaborate pair of double doors, with the letters BHT worked into them. _Biff H. Tannen. This must be it,_ he thought. _I kinda wish I had my own set of Ock arms now – or at least the Vulture's wings so I could just fly out of here once I've gotten what we need._ He took a deep breath. _Well, can't worry about that now. Here goes._

He opened the doors and walked into the room. He found himself on a sort of mini-balcony, overlooking a big recessed living room complete with a large bar and a hot tub. Everything was still horribly garish – backlit black velvet paintings of underwear-clad models scattered around the twin staircases, lots of gold leaf and pink accents on the walls, and plenty of images of Biff's face. Biff himself was in the hot tub, cuddling up to a pair of pretty girls and watching a Clint Eastwood movie. He didn't even notice as Marty descended the left staircase, gawping at everything in horror.

Biff cheered as Clint wasted someone else. "Great flick! Great frigging flick! I could watch this guy's stuff all day."

"You have, Biff," one of the girls, a bleached-blonde, giggled.

Marty wasn't sure how he managed to keep his vomit down. Gathering his courage, he walked straight up to the hot tub. "Hey, Biff," he said, knowing that even his other self would _never_ be able to call Biff "Dad."

Biff looked up and did a double-take. "What – what the hell are _you_ doing here?" he snapped, scowling deeply. "I told security that I didn't want to see you!"

"I got past them," Marty said simply.

"Oh my God, Biff, is this that kid you stuck in Switzerland?" the second girl, a brunette with way too much makeup, asked.

Marty blinked at that. _Switzerland? What the hell would I be doing in Switzerland?!_

"You got kicked out of another boarding school, didn't you?" Biff snarled, inadvertently answering Marty's mental question. "Damn it, you son of a bitch, how much of my money are you gonna waste? That's it, I'm not sending you any place else! Get your ugly face out of my hotel before I call my boys!" He turned back to his movie.

"There's something we need to talk about first," Marty said, folding his arms.

"I told you, I'm not sending you anyplace else. And that includes the hospital, kid. So you'd better make like a tree--"

"Grey's. Sports. Almanac."

Biff went pale. He turned and stared at Marty, who allowed himself a small, smug smile. Then he lifted himself out of the hot tub, grabbing a nearby remote and shutting off the TV. Marty's smile turned to a grimace as he saw Biff's silvery swimsuit. "Sorry girls," Biff said, getting a robe. "Party's over."

"Aw, but Biff--" the blonde protested.

"We'll pick it back up in a few hours," Biff assured her, kissing them both. The girls sighed, but exited the hot tub and headed for the door. Biff turned back to Marty. "Come on, kid, we'll talk in my office."

"Okay," Marty said, watching as Biff grabbed a quick drink from the bar. He glanced at the girls' backsides. "Though that reminds me – where's Mom?"

"Visiting her sister Sally," Biff said, leading the teen across the living room and over to another set of double doors. They entered a black office, with banks of security TVs and a huge portrait of Biff behind a large desk. Biff rounded the desk and plonked himself down into a zebra-print chair. "Sit down."

Marty did so, sinking into a tiger-print chair. He spotted a tray of matchbooks nearby and picked one up, curious. It had the same stylized "Biff's" on the front as the hotel, and the words "Pleasure Paradise" on the back. It looked rather like the ones the Biff he knew had made up for his auto detailing business. _Yuck! I'm not letting this asshole near my truck ever again!_

"Stop playing around, kid," Biff snapped, nursing his drink. Marty started, absently sticking the matchbook in his pocket. "Tell me what else you know about that book."

"First you tell me how you got it," Marty replied. "How, when, and where."

Biff raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "You know I have it, but you don't know how I got it?"

"All I know is that an old man was involved," Marty said cautiously.

Biff nodded. "Crazy old codger with a cane," he confirmed. "Said he was a distant relative of mine – I never saw any resemblance. He told me that the Sports Almanac would be my ticket to the good life." He smiled around at his office. "And he was right. Best thing that ever happened to me." He reached just a bit too casually underneath his desk. "And he was right about something else too. He told me that someday, a kid, or a crazy wild-eyed old scientist would come asking about that book. And if that ever happened. . . ." His hand reappeared, clutching a small gun. "Funny," he remarked, pointing it straight at Marty's head. "I never thought it would be you."

_Shit!_ Marty thought, eyes wide. _Come on, McFly, you said you could outthink this asshole – now _think_!_

His gaze fell back on the tray of matchbooks. It was awfully pointy. . . . "Yeah, well, Biff, you're forgetting one thing," he said as Biff cocked his gun. Then he pointed wildly behind the bully. "What the hell is that?!"

Biff fell for it, looking at the banks of TVs. Marty grabbed the tray, chucked it at Biff's head, then ran for it. There was the sound of the tray thudding into Biff's chair – then the sound of gunfire as Biff tried to get a bead on him. "You're dead, you little son of a bitch!"

Marty dived into the recessed living room for cover. Moments later, the lamp above his head shattered. _Oh shit, oh shit, this is not good! Keep moving, McFly, or you're dead!_

He raced up to the balcony and out the double doors, dodging the bullets Biff sent his way. As he entered the hallway, he heard the elevator ding. Hoping it was a possible exit, he turned toward it.

That turned out to be a bad move. Coming out of the elevator were Biff's goons. And they didn't look happy when they saw Marty. _Damn! Now I _really_ wish I had Doc's arms!_ Marty thought, racing in the other direction with the gang members hot on his heels.

He burst into the stairwell, looking around for a way to escape. One set of stairs led down, while the others lead up to the roof. Marty was tempted to head up and wait for Doc, but that would leave him trapped until the scientist got there. But going to the bottom floor would take _forever_. . . .

Then an idea hit him. He headed down the lower set of stairs, making as much noise as possible. He stopped just out of sight, waiting.

The goons entered the stairwell and immediately headed downstairs, having heard the clatter. Marty quickly hopped the railing onto another set of stairs, these leading up to – nowhere, as far as he could see. _I guess when you're as rich as Biff is now, you can afford to waste money on shit like this._

Right now, though, he was thankful for Biff's excesses. He hid until the goons had disappeared from sight, then switched staircases again and headed for the roof.

It was dark and smoggy on the top of the Pleasure Paradise, with the only light coming from the awful pink neon on the front of the building. Fighting the urge to hold his breath, Marty ran to the edge and looked down. 27 stories of empty space loomed below him. "Shit," he swore quietly. Just as he'd thought – Doc and Jennifer weren't back yet. He'd have to –

"Go ahead, kid!"

Marty spun around, a thrill of horror going through him. Biff was standing behind him, still clutching his gun and his drink. "Jump!" he continued. "A suicide'll be nice and neat."

Marty looked briefly at the edge. 27 stories down – that kind of death was anything _but_ neat. "What if I don't?" he snapped back, with a bravado he didn't really feel.

Biff smirked and raised his gun. "Lead poisoning," he said simply.

This was not good. He had to get out of here somehow. For a moment, Marty thought about trying the "What's That?!" trick again, but quickly discarded it – not even Biff would fall for that twice. The best thing seemed to be to keep Biff talking. And he even had a question ready. "What about the police, Biff?" he asked, climbing closer to the edge of the roof. It was a dangerous move, but the extra height made him feel a little braver. "They'd match up the bullet with that gun!"

Biff looked at him in disbelief. "Kid," he said slowly, "I _own_ the police!" He smirked again. "Besides, they couldn't match up the bullet that killed your old man."

Rage bubbled up inside Marty. Though he'd suspected Biff of murdering his father ever since he'd seen that article, it was still infuriating to hear it confirmed – by Biff himself, no less. "You son of a--"

Biff cocked the gun, giving him a warning look. Desperately, Marty looked back over the edge. Where were they? "I suppose it's poetic justice," Biff said, getting his aim just right. "Two McFlys – with the same gun!"

Wait a minute. Was that the DeLorean? And the tentacles, waving to him? Marty gave Biff one last, disgusted look, then took a deep breath and stepped backwards off the edge of the building. _This had better work. . . ._

On the roof, Biff Tannen started, amazed. He had never really expected the kid to jump. Marty had always been too angry, too stubborn, to kill himself. Much to Biff's previous frustration, frankly. Out of all of Lorraine's kids, Marty had annoyed him the most. Probably because of the teen's odd resemblance to that punk Calvin Klein. _If only I'd been able to hunt him down and kill him too. . . ._

Well, at least Klein's doppelganger was gone. Biff smirked and took a sip of his drink. "Idiot," he muttered, heading for the edge of the roof so he could see the brat's splattered remains.

Halfway there, though, he heard an odd "thud" sound. Puzzled, he paused. It came again, shaking the building slightly. Biff frowned. "What the hell?"

He edged cautiously forward, clutching his drink and gun tightly. The thudding sound repeated itself a few times. It sounded almost like someone was climbing up the side of the building. Had that son of a bitch managed to grab a window ledge or something and save himself? Getting pissed, Biff peeked over the edge.

A huge metal claw abruptly filled his vision, hissing loudly. Biff screamed and stumbled backwards, falling. His drink and gun went flying as he hit the roof. The gun fell out of sight, but the claw shot out and caught the glass mid-tumble. Looking up, Biff saw three other metal tentacles, glowing a soft, menacing red from the neon and their own inner lights. And standing in the middle of them all was none other than – "D-Doctor B-Brown?!" Biff stammered, eyes about to fall out of his head.

Doc smiled maliciously. "Hello, Biff." The tentacle in front threw the glass aside as he stepped off the lip of the roof. "I see you've done well for yourself."

"What – how – aren't you – what the hell are those things?!" Biff finally asked, scooting away from the scientist. "How'd you get out of the looney bin?!"

Doc didn't answer. "How did you get your paws on that sports almanac, Biff?"

"I – I'm not telling you!" Biff said, dredging up what little bravado he could. This had to be a hallucination – a bad, bad finger of Scotch or something –

Doc shrugged. "Okay."

A claw abruptly fastened itself around Biff's ankle. Biff was very quickly presented with the reality of the situation as he found himself dangling upside-down over the side of his own building. As he looked down on the sparse traffic, 27 stories suddenly seemed _insanely_ high. "All right! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

The tentacle pulled him back over the roof, though it didn't release him. Doc folded his arms and waited. Biff sighed. "It was November 12th, 1955," he began reluctantly. Doc's eyebrows lifted, but he showed no other signs of surprise. "I'd just picked up my car because I'd rolled it in a drag race--"

"You crashed into a manure truck," Doc interrupted as the tentacles buzzed mockingly.

"How do you--"

"Calvin Klein was my nephew, remember? Please continue."

Biff scowled. "Well, anyway, there I was, minding my own business, when this crazy old codger with a cane shows up. He says he's my distant relative – I don't see any resemblance." Doc smiled thinly. "He asks me, 'How would you like to be rich?' I says, 'Sure.' So he lays this book on me."

"Grey's Sports Almanac," Doc confirmed.

"That's the one," Biff said, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic. He didn't need another look at how far away the street was. "He tells me that the book will tell me the outcome of every sporting event until the end of the century. All I have to do is bet on the winner, and I'll never lose. I ask him, 'What's the catch?' He says, 'No catch, just keep it a secret.'" Biff shrugged. "After that, he disappeared. I never saw him again." He frowned suspiciously at Doc. "_You_ wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

"Long gone from this time," Doc replied cryptically. "Most likely dead."

"I figured. The guy had some years on him. He warned me about you and that damned kid too! That's why I threw you in Southdale! You knew too much!" Biff glanced around. "How'd you get out and get these – things?"

The tentacles hissed again. "I'm not the Dr. Emmett Brown you know," Doc said simply. "Though I will be soon. Goodbye, Biff."

The tentacle holding Biff released him. Biff fell headfirst onto the concrete, knocking himself out. The tentacles took a moment to arrange him in a funny position, head sticking through his legs with hands spread wide._**Too bad we don't have a marker or a crayon so we can color on him,**_ Albert remarked, sniggering.

"We don't have time for that anyway," Doc said. "We got what we came for. Let's go." He and the kids headed back down to the waiting DeLorean, sending chips of concrete flying.

Marty scooted out of the driver's seat as they got in, settling on Jennifer's lap. "Did you get the info?"

"Yup. You won't believe this – we have to go back to November 12th, 1955."

"What?! I don't believe it!"

"See what I mean?" Doc turned the DeLorean around and started flying away from the Pleasure Paradise, back toward Lyon Estates. The tentacles made rude sounds and gestures at the hotel as it receded into the distance. "Come on, kids, we have a girl in the car!"

"Oh, please, don't let me stop them," Jennifer said, shaking her head.

"November 12th – same day I went back to 1985," Marty muttered, still surprised. "This is heavy, Doc."

"I know! It's as if that time inherently contains some sort of cosmic significance," Doc said, programming the time circuits. "As it if it were the temporal junction point for the entire space-time continuum!" He paused and thought a moment. "On the other hand, it could just be an amazing coincidence."

Without warning, the time circuits began to blink, flashing JANUARY 1ST, 1885, 12:00 A.M. instead of NOVEMBER 12TH, 1955, 6:00 A.M. _**Not another thing to go wrong!**_ Jules snapped, chattering in frustration.

_**They need to rename Murphy's Law Brown's Law,**_ Verne agreed.

"Tell me about it," Doc sighed, hitting the display panel a few times with the heel of his palm. The time circuits reset themselves correctly after flashing a couple of times. "Finally. All right, kids, all circuits functional?"

"We're going back now?" Jennifer asked, startled.

"Why not? We're all here, and there's no time to waste."

Jennifer hesitated. "I should stay behind," she finally said.

Marty stared at her. "What?!"

"This reality is all my fault. I should stay here so I don't screw up anything else."

"_Hell_ no!" Marty grabbed her in a tight embrace. "There's no way I'm letting you stay here, your fault or not. I love you."

"This is a very dangerous reality, Jennifer," Doc agreed. "We wouldn't want you to suffer any trauma outside of that you've probably already experienced."

"But – damn it, what if I do something that makes things _worse_? What if I end up helping Biff get his filthy hands on the almanac?"

"That would be pretty much impossible, Jen," Marty said. "And if you stay here, once we change things, you'll disappear!"

_**What? Will she?**_ Tommy asked, squeaking fearfully.

_**It seems like a possibility,**_ Albert said, trying to hug the girl. _**I don't want Jennifer to disappear.**_

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Doc said. "But I don't think it's a given that she'd disappear if she stayed in this reality while we went to the past. Given that she herself is foreign to this timeline, there's a pretty good chance she would remain unaffected while the timeline changed around her.

"See? So I should--" Jennifer began.

Doc held up a hand. "That doesn't necessarily mean you should stay. There's always a chance you would be trapped in this world. And I wouldn't feel right leaving you here." Jules chittered at them. "Jules estimates your chances of getting injured in some way are very high – about 97."

Jennifer sighed. "I would deserve it."

"Like hell," Marty said firmly. "How were you supposed to know this would happen? So you bought that stupid sports almanac. _Biff_ was the one who used it!" He squeezed her. "Don't blame yourself for this."

A faint smiled finally appeared on Jennifer's face. "Thanks for the all the support, guys. I'm still worried I'm going to do or say something stupid to screw up the past, though."

"Then stay with the DeLorean," Doc said. "You don't have to go anywhere else if you don't want to. Just please, don't stay here." The tentacles cuddled up to her, squeaking pleadingly.

Jennifer sighed. "All right. I'll go with you guys. I really would rather leave all this shit behind."

"That's the spirit," Marty said, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, Jennifer. Everything's going to be fine."

_**If that display will stay right,**_ Verne qualified, noticing it had changed back to the 1885 date. He hit it, forcing back to 1955.

"Thanks, Vernie. Hang on, everyone!" Doc hit the accelerator.

Moments later, the DeLorean vanished into the past, leaving behind Hell Valley – and one very confused bum watching from the ground. "Crazy drunk pilot!"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Saturday, November 12th, 1955

Hill Valley

6:00 A.M.

The DeLorean reappeared over the field which would one day house Lyon Estates. After checking to make sure Otis Peabody wasn't anywhere nearby, Doc landed behind the billboard advertising the upcoming housing development. "Oh, this is _heavy_," Marty said as they got out of the car. "It feels like I was just here yesterday!"

"Technically, Marty, you _were_ here yesterday," Doc smiled. "Amazing, isn't it?"

Jennifer stared at the fields. "This is Lyon Estates?" she asked in disbelief. "Where are all the houses? Shouldn't they be working on them, at least?"

"I think the billboard says the groundbreaking's next spring," Marty said, peeking around to check. "Yeah – I don't think anything we'd recognize is gonna be here for another year yet."

"Weird."

Doc nodded absently, checking his watches. "All right – sunrise should be in about 22 minutes," he reported, getting back to the matter at hand. "Marty, I want you to go into town, find Young Biff, and tail him. Sometime today, Old Biff will show up to give Young Biff the almanac. Above all, you must not interfere with that event!" Marty opened his mouth to protest, but Doc and the tentacles shook their heads firmly. "I know it's a temptation, but we have to let Old Biff believe he's succeeded so he'll bring the DeLorean back to the future."

"Oh, right, that paradox stuff."

"Exactly. However, once Old Biff is gone, grab the almanac any way that you can," Doc continued, while the tentacles popped open the DeLorean's trunk. "Remember, all of our futures depend on this!"

"You don't have to remind me of that, Doc," Marty assured him, patting the pocket which held his article on his father.

_**Found our stuff – and – what's this?**_ Verne asked, holding up a flat pink board with the Mattel logo printed on it.

"That's – a hoverboard?" Doc blinked a few times, then frowned at Marty. "I assume this is the one Jennifer told me about." He looked back, his frown turning to a look of confusion. "Seems a little – girly – for you."

"I 'rented' it off some little girl – I only meant to keep it for the day," Marty admitted, blushing bright red. "I was getting some shit from some people, so I stuck it in there, then after the kidnapping and Biff ruining the future. . . ."

Doc sighed. "Yes, I suppose I can understand it slipping your mind. But why on earth did you feel the need to rent a hoverboard in the first place?"

". . .Doc, you're acting like you haven't met me."

Doc couldn't help a smile at that. "Good point. Next time, though, put your temporary purchases _next_ to the DeLorean, rather than _in _it. We can't risk too much future technology being brought back to the past. You can go ahead and dump it back in the DeLorean, Vernie," he added to the tentacle. "We'll deal with bringing it back later. This is more important." Verne nodded and replaced the toy. "Anyway, here's some binoculars--" Jules handed over the pair "– and a walkie talkie so we can keep in contact." Tommy had a package of two – he and Albert tore it open and removed one for Marty.

"This the stuff you went to get while I was trying to get Biff to talk?" Marty asked, taking a test gaze through the binoculars.

"Yes – sorry about taking so long, but I expected you to take longer."

"Well, I don't argue well with guns."

Doc felt a faint shudder go through him as he thought about what might had happened to Marty if they hadn't arrived just then."I don't think anyone does." He pushed the depressing thoughts away. "Now, while you're out there, Jennifer and I will stay here and try to repair the short in the time circuits. That way, we don't risk anyone else stealing the time machine, and I won't risk accidentally bumping into my other self."

"Your other self?" Marty repeated, looking a bit confused.

"Yes! There are now two of me here, and there are two of you here. The other me is the Doc Brown from 1955 – the other me that helps the other you back to 1985!" Doc shook a finger at Marty. "Remember the lightning bolt at the Clock Tower?"

"Yeah!"

_**Really, Father, how could he not?**_ Albert added, chittering chidingly at Doc.

The scientist ignored him and continued. "That event doesn't happen until tonight. So you have to be careful not to run into your other self." Doc had the tentacles grab his suitcase out of the trunk. "Here, let me give you some emergency money." He popped open the top and pulled some bills out of the pouch labeled 1955. "Get yourself some 50s clothes," he said, handing them to Marty. "Something, inconspicious."

"Check, Doc. I'll see you later."

Jennifer pulled Marty into a hug. "Be careful out there," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "I'm really sorry about all this."

"It's _okay_, Jennifer. We're gonna fix this, then we'll go home and forget all about it."

_**Safe trip, Marty,**_ Jules said, he and the other tentacles squeaking their goodbyes and ruffling the teen's hair. Marty gave them each a pat, then turned and started jogging down the road.

"Good luck, Marty!" Doc called after him. "And remember, something inconspicious!"

"Got it, Doc!"

The six of them watched Marty fade into the distance. Then Verne turned to Doc. _**Er – he **_**does**_** know what that word means, right?**_

Saturday, November 12th

12:07 P.M.

"Doc? Jennifer? One of you come in!"

Tommy grabbed the walkie-talkie and brought it over to Doc, who was examining the time circuits. "Roger, Marty, this is Doc. What's the report?"

"I'm at the address," Marty reported, sounding a bit confused. "It's the only Tannen in the book – but this doesn't look like Biff's house. It looks like some old lady lives here."

Right on cue, there came some faint yelling through the set. Jules obligingly amplified it so Doc could hear better. "Biff! Where you going, Biff?" a crabby female voice called.

"I told you, Grandma, I'm going to get my car!" Biff replied, sounding equally crabby.

_**Grandma? Why does Biff live with his grandmother?**_ Albert asked, puzzled.

_If I recall correctly, Biff's father was in and out of jail during the majority of Biff's childhood,_ Doc mentally replied, inputting a few random dates into the system to see what would happen. _His mother left them both in 1951. I suspect there was nowhere else for him to go._

_**Hmmm,**_ Jules said thoughtfully._** This may explain a lot about Biff's personality.**_

_Yes, I suspect a lot about Biff as we know him is related to nurture. Though I'm not ready to rule out nature's influence._

_**Oh, definitely not.**_

There was the faint sounds of a squabble between Biff and what seemed to be some kids. Then Marty's voice came back on. "Doc, it is Biff's house. I'm on him. Hey, how's Jennifer?"

"Hungry," Jennifer admitted, snagging the walkie-talkie from Doc. "I don't think we've eaten since we were in the future, and that was hours ago."

"I think I have something in the glove compartment," Doc said. Verne opened it up and rifled through it, eventually coming up with a small bag of trail mix. "I'll cook us all a big dinner once the timeline is restored."

"I'll hold you to that, Doc. Anyway, I'm after Biff. I'll call back later. Over."

"Over." Jennifer handed the set to Tommy, who set it down nearby. "I hope he'll be okay."

"He's a pretty resourceful kid. He should be fine." Doc turned his attention fully back to the time display. "Damn, this is an unpredictable short. The display will seem fine for 20 dates at once, then it'll flash every other date."

"You can fix it, right?" Jennifer asked, between handfuls of trail mix.

"Yes, though it'll take a little hunting. I'm pretty sure the short is in the panel itself, but you never know. This might be worse than it first appears."

Jennifer shuddered. "Jesus, I hope not. I want to go home."

"Us too," Doc said as the tentacles nodded. "In fact--" he sighed deeply "– I'm strongly considering dismantling the time machine once we get back."

_**WHAT?!**_

The tentacles all turned to stare at their father. _**What do you mean, dismantle the time machine?**_ Jules demanded, screeching. _**This was your dream for 30 years! How could you throw it away?**_

"First – please never yell in my head again," Doc said, rubbing his temples. "Ouch. Second, this mess with Biff isn't enough to convince you that perhaps the world isn't ready for time travel? All matter of disasters can result from having a time machine in your possession. It doesn't even have to be anything done deliberately! What if someone stole the DeLorean for a joyride?"

_**Update the security systems!**_ Verne said. _**You already mentioned you were going to replace the door locks!**_

_**Father, you love time travel! What happened to visiting the Old West for your birthday this year?**_ Tommy added.

"I would hate to miss that opportunity – but on the other hand, I don't know if the danger is worth it. Life would be much easier if I didn't have to worry about the fate of the space-time continuum constantly."

_**Life would also be much easier without us fused to your back, you know,**_ Albert said venomously.

"You four are different. The DeLorean isn't attached to me, and it isn't sentient."

_**We should make it sentient then!**_ Tommy said. _**Like KITT!**_

"Kids. . . ."

_**Father. . . .**_

Doc shook his head. "Jennifer, what's your opinion?" he asked, hoping a fresh perspective might help.

"You'll be okay as long as I never set foot in this thing again."

"Jennifer–"

"I know, I know," she said, cutting him off. "I really don't know how I feel about it all, Doc. Being able to travel through time is pretty cool, but I'd hate for anything like this to happen again. I'm pretty sure Marty feels the same way."

"Me too." Doc frowned at the time circuits. "I don't regret building it, but. . . ."

_**Father, you're stressed,**_ Jules said soothingly. _**You're not thinking clearly. Once all this is over and we're back in our proper timeline, we can evaluate the pros and cons of owning a time machine much more accurately.**_

"I suppose," Doc said, deciding the issue wasn't worth an argument right then and there. Once the kids got going on a subject, they tended not to stop. "You're right in that we have to get home first before the issue can truly be decided."

Jennifer nodded, then stifled a yawn. "Sorry," she said. "Just a little tired. It's been a long day."

"I can relate to that," Doc nodded. "I'm feeling sleepy myself. Probably an aftereffect of the adrenaline rush I got by confronting Biff."

_**You should take a nap then,**_ Verne said. _**You should be in your ideal mental state to complete these repairs.**_

_**We can put dangling Biff over the side of the Pleasure Paradise on instant replay in your dreams,**_ Albert added.

Doc chuckled. "No thanks, but maybe you're right about getting some sleep. A nap could do us all a world of good." He yawned. "It's been a stressful couple of hours."

"Yeah. Now I feel bad for Marty, though," Jennifer said as the tentacles retrieved an old blanket from the back of the DeLorean. "We get to relax while he's stuck tailing Biff and trying to get the almanac."

"I know, but he was the best choice for the job," Doc said. "I knew you wouldn't want to wander around in a foreign time period, and I have my past self to think about. Not to mention the kids would be fairly conspicuous."

"Tell me about it." Jennifer settled under the blanket. "I'm really sorry for getting everyone into this."

"We got into it, we'll get out of it," Doc assured her. He let his head flop back against the headrest. "Wake us in about an hour, okay kids?"

_**Affirmative, Father,**_ the tentacles chorused. Doc smiled and closed his eyes. _**Goodnight.**_

Saturday, November 12th

2:48 P.M.

"Doc! Come in, Doc! Jennifer! Anybody!"

Jennifer, who had been playing with a ball she'd found, grabbed the set. "Marty? It's me, Jennifer. Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm in trouble. Where's Doc?"

Doc pulled himself out of the DeLorean, where he and the tentacles had been slowly dismantling the time circuit display in hopes of finding the short. "We're here, Marty," he said, coming up behind Jennifer. "What's the report?"

"Biff's gone – he's got the book. The old man's gone too. I'm locked in Biff's garage; you gotta fly the DeLorean over and get me the hell out of here! The address is 1809 Mason Street."

"What? Wait a minute, how'd you get locked in Biff's garage?" Jennifer demanded. "They didn't catch you, did they?"

"No, luckily. I had to hide in the back of Biff's car to follow him and Old Biff! I didn't expect him to lock the garage doors once they left! And the windows are way too small for even me to fit through! You guys have to help me!"

"Calm down, Marty, we'll get you out," Doc reassured the frantic teen. "But I can't take the DeLorean out in the daylight."

"Then use the kids!"

Doc and the tentacles stared at each other. "Er, Marty? It's 1955, remember?"

"Right, right." There was a pause as Marty apparently processed this. "Shit, you might not be able to come at all, then. . . ."

"Oh, Doc, I don't want to go alone," Jennifer whispered. "I mean – I will if I have to, but--"

"Once bitten, twice shy," Doc said understandingly. Jennifer nodded, turning pink. "Well, maybe I can go with you. There must be some way to hide the kids."

_**We're kind of hard to miss, Father,**_ Albert said skeptically.

_**We **_**can**_** retract to four and a half feet,**_ Jules said. _**Perhaps we could hide under Father's coat?**_

_**But his clothes are 60 years out of date! In the **_**wrong direction**_**!**_

_**He has money to buy new ones,**_ Tommy piped up. _**And Marty apparently made it to a clothing store without trouble. We should at least **_**try**_** to help Marty. He saved our lives from Carlyle.**_

Not even Albert could argue with that. He and the other tentacles tried retracting, hugging close to Doc's body. The tips of their claws were visible at the hem of Doc's gold coat, but other than that, they were pretty well hidden. "Not bad," Doc said with an approving smile. "You'll have to stick tight to my legs while I'm walking, but I think I could risk going out in public like this."

Jennifer sighed in relief. "Great. We'll find a way to get over there, Marty," she told her boyfriend. "Just sit tight."

"Will do. Be careful. I love you, Jennifer."

"I love you too, Marty. Over and out." Jennifer shut off the set. "Can we at least take the tentacles to the edge of town?" she asked Doc. "It's gonna be one hell of a walk."

"Of course. Let me just get some more cash. . ."

Saturday, November 12th

7:32 P.M.

_**Why are bicycle seats so poorly designed? The shape and texture do not seem optimal for cushioning the buttocks during a trip.**_

_Because the designers are filthy sadists, that's why,_ Doc thought back, resisting the urge to reach back and rub his aching butt. This rescue trip was _really_ starting to drag on. After emptying the 1955 slot in his suitcase (along with taking some 1940s money for good measure) and reassembling the time circuit display, he and Jennifer had set out by tentacle for Hill Valley. The tentacles had done an admirable job of hiding themselves once they had reached the city limits, but Doc and Jennifer had still gotten a lot of stares because of their clothing. Jennifer had gotten very uncomfortable, due in no small part to her short skirt, and Doc had been worried someone would notice his white hair, the one true indicator of his age post-rejuvenation. It would be very awkward if his younger self was asked how he managed to temporarily age 30 years!

To their relief, they reached the clothing store without major incident. Doc had bought a long black coat to hide the tentacles, some regular tan pants, and a hat to cover his hair. Jennifer had grabbed a navy blouse and long yellow skirt, and would have changed right then and there if the clerk hadn't insisted on them paying for the items first. Doc had managed to dodge the clerk's questions about their clothes ("What kind of cloth is that?", "How could you let that girl go out in a skirt that short?", "Why was your nephew dressed so strangely too?"), and they gratefully changed before leaving. Their future clothes had gone behind the dumpster in back for later retrieval – Doc was thankful to find Marty had had the same idea.

They had been discussing the merits of calling a cab to get to Mason Street when Farmer Peabody had walked by. And unfortunately for the pair, he was still convinced Doc was an alien. He had chased them for about a mile, yelling profanities and swearing to destroy their spaceship. Doc had finally convinced him to leave them alone by "revealing" the location of the "spaceship," sending the farmer clear across town – and as far away from the DeLorean as possible.

After that, Doc had been leery of interacting with too many other people. Luckily for them, upon arriving back in the square, Jennifer had noticed the Schwinn bicycle shop. They found a tandem bicycle in the back of the store and bought it. After a little practice to shore up rusty skills (and a couple of falls), they had started on the trip to Mason Street.

And now, finally, here they were, having backtracked at least three times upon discovering that a few of the roads they had wanted to use didn't exist yet. Jennifer sighed deeply as they approached the right house. "At last. . . . I never want to even _see_ a bicycle again after this."

"I agree completely," Doc said, getting out of the way of yet another car. "I just hope Marty can forgive us the rather extreme delay."

"Yeah, me too."

Jules, peeking out from under Doc's coat, suddenly gave a nervous chitter. _**Father – wasn't that **_**Biff's**_** car?**_

Doc froze at that. Then he put on a burst of speed. "Hey!" Jennifer protested, the bike wobbling dangerously as she tried to keep up.

Doc paid no heed, rounding the corner and entering the driveway. His heart sank as he saw that the garage door Marty was supposed to be trapped behind was wide open. Jennifer groaned as she saw it too. "Oh, don't tell me we came all this way for _nothing_. . . ."

Doc hopped off the bike and walked forward as Jennifer held it steady with a foot. The tentacles popped out of his coat and looked around. "Marty? Marty?"

There was no reply. Verne shook his claw after scanning the garage. _**There's no sign of him at all, Father. He probably left when Biff did.**_

_**Or was found out, and – well, maybe we should check the local hospital,**_ Albert said, sounding worried.

Doc winced. "Great Scott, I hope the latter's not the case. . . . Jennifer, see if you can raise him on his walkie-talkie."

Jennifer pulled the set out of her pocket and turned it on. "Marty? It's Jennifer. Where are you?"

Silence. She tried again. "Marty? We're at the garage. Are you anywhere nearby? Please respond."

Silence again. Jennifer looked over at Doc, brown eyes getting watery. "Do you think Biff found him?"

"Maybe," Doc said. "I wouldn't jump immediately to that conclusion. Marty's small and good at hiding, and I'm sure he'd take whatever measures he could not to be found. Perhaps he's back on Biff's trail now that Biff's gone."

_**Or maybe he just got sick of waiting for us and decided to strike out on his own,**_ Albert said.

"No, he wouldn't abandon his mission like that – especially not now that Biff has the book." Doc shook his head. "We'd best head back to the DeLorean. Jennifer, keep trying him on that set. If worst comes to worst, we'll call St. Daphne's anonymously and ask about any new arrivals."

"Right," Jennifer nodded, wiping her eyes. "I really hope he's not hurt."

"So do we, Jennifer. So do we." Steeling themselves for another long trip, they turned the bike around and started pedaling.

About a half-hour later, as they reached the square again, the walkie-talkie suddenly sprang to life. "Doc! Jennifer!"

Jennifer whipped it out as they stopped the bike. "Marty! It's me, Jennifer! Come in!"

"Jen--"

Marty suddenly stopped, leaving Jennifer to look at her set in bewilderment. "Okay, Doc, I guess – Doc?"

Doc was staring at the scene before him. After a moment, Jennifer realized why – before them was the courthouse, all set up to send Marty back to 1985. "Oh. This is heavy," she said, amazed. "It wasn't like this earlier."

"My younger self and Marty's younger self didn't arrive here until about 7:00 – we left at 6:45." Doc got off the bike and took a peek under the cover on the younger version of the DeLorean. "Great Scott."

The tentacles took another short look around from under the coat. _**Father, is this safe?**_ Verne asked. _**What if Marty55 or you55 sees us?**_

Doc checked his watch. "Marty should have already left to get Lorraine for their date," he said, walking the bike along with Jennifer. "And my younger self should be taking a bathroom break in Lou's. I certainly wouldn't linger here, but we should be okay for now."

Jennifer got the bike up onto the sidewalk, fingering the walkie-talkie. "Should I try Marty again?"

As if in response, the walkie-talkie crackled. "Doc? Jennifer?"

"Give it here," Doc said, reaching out. Jennifer handed it over, bunching up close to him to listen in. "Marty, what happened? We went to Biff's house, and you weren't there!"

"Are you all right?" Jennifer added. "Biff didn't find you, did he?"

"I'm fine," Marty assured them. "You must have just missed me. I'm in the back of Biff's car. He's on his way to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance."

_Oh, this is not good. If he does anything to interfere with how the dance originally – er, sort of – went –!_ "Marty, we may have to abort this entire plan!" Doc admitted aloud. "It's getting much too dangerous!"

_**Uh, Father–**_ Jules began.

_Not now, Jules!_

"Don't worry, Doc, the book is on Biff's dashboard. I'll grab it as soon as we get to the dance."

Doc felt another twinge of worry. "Marty, you must be careful not to run into your other self!"

_**Father, you–**_

_Boys, not now! We have a minor crisis on our hands!_

"My other self?" Marty asked, sounding puzzled.

"Yes!" Doc snapped. "Your mother is that _exact same dance_ with _you_! Yeah!"

_**Father, you might want to keep it down. . . .**_

_Sorry, but this is an emergency!_

"Oh, right. This could get heavy, Doc."

Doc rolled his eyes. "Heavy, everything's heavy. . . ."

"Well, it is," Jennifer told him, giving him a look.

_**Father, please! You might want to move!**_

_Just a moment, Albert!_ "Marty, whatever happens, _do not_ let your other self see you. The consequences could be disastrous."

"Excuse me, sir!"

Doc went suddenly stiff. That voice sounded awfully familiar. . . . Jennifer's barely-stifled "eep!" and Jules's peeking camera confirmed it – while he had been busy with Marty, his younger self had snuck up on them. **Now**_** will you listen to us?**_ Albert said grumpily.

"Shit," Doc whispered. _Now_ what was he supposed to do? _Marty's going to think me the biggest hypocrite on the planet. . . . Jules, quick, make sure you're out of sight!_

"Sir? Oh, hello, miss. Something wrong?"

Having his back turned firmly toward the 35-year-old verison of himself, Doc could only hear Jennifer's swallow. "No, you just kind of surprised me. May I ask what you're doing? Looks complicated."

"Not really – just a weather experiment," Doc55 replied. "Could you or your – grandfather?" Doc stiffened indignantly "– hand me a 5/8's inch wrench out of the toolbox?"

"Sure." Doc heard Jennifer grab the requested tool out of the box and hand it over. "You'll have to excuse my grandpa – he's a little shy. He had polio, and now he has to wear a back brace, so--"

"Oh, I see." There was a moment's pause. "Um, miss, this is a 3/4's wrench, not a – wait, let me see this bolt. . . . Yes, I _needed_ a 3/4's! Where did I get 5/8's from?"

_Damned if I know,_ Doc thought_. I didn't understand it the first time I made that mistake. Great Scott, this is strange. . . ._

"Don't ask me. So, er, what's this weather experiment supposed to do?"

"I'm – hoping to get some wattage readings on a bolt of lightning," Doc55 replied. "Unfortunately, the weatherman says there's not going to be any rain."

Jennifer gave a snort of derision. "Come on, you can never trust what those guys say. Isn't that right, Grandpa?"

Doc panicked for a moment. Why on earth did Jennifer have to ask him to speak? "Er – um – yes, of course," he finally said, doing his best to make his voice sound gruffer than normal. "There's going to be plenty of rain all right, wind, thunder, lightning. . . ." He risked a peek over his shoulder at his younger counterpart. "It's going to be one hell of a storm. The back, you know – lets you know these things."

Doc55 chuckled softly. "I see. I hope you're right." Doc heard the distinct sound of a wrench on a bolt. "I guess I'll let you both get on your way. Your grandfather seems to be in a bit of a hurry."

"He's going a bit senile," Jennifer whispered. "You know how it is."

"Oh. Well, thanks again. Maybe we'll bump into each other some time again in the future."

Jennifer nodded, finally rejoining Doc at the bike. They continued walking it away, moving as quickly as they could without drawing suspicion. "Or in the past," she said, once they were out of earshot.

Doc glared at her. "_Senile?_"

"Sorry, Doc, couldn't resist," she giggled.

Doc rolled his eyes. "I have such wonderful friends. . .come on, let's get back to the DeLorean before something even worse happens."

"Can we at least stop by the grocery store and pick up some snacks?" Jennifer asked. "I'm really hungry. And I'm sure Marty will be the same once he gets back."

Doc's own stomach growling cut off his protests. "All right, but I'd prefer it if I didn't have to go in. Do you think you can handle buying food on your own?"

"I think so. I mean, I survived talking to your younger self, so I guess I can't be a complete screw-up at this time travel thing."

"Yes, you did a good job with that," Doc admitted. Then he glowered. "But I still hate you for the senility comment."

"Well, I couldn't exactly tell him the truth. . . ."

They managed to find their way to the local grocery store and pick up some food, then headed back to the DeLorean. Doc and the tentacles checked it over thoroughly as Jennifer tore into a bag of cookies. "Untouched," Doc said, relieved. "It's probably a good thing we met up with Peabody, actually – he might have stumbled right on it otherwise." He shuddered at the mental image of the DeLorean riddled with bullet holes.

_**Father, should we try to contact Marty now?**_ Jules asked, chittering.

"I'd prefer to wait until Marty contacts us," Doc admitted. "I don't want to get him in trouble if he's in a delicate situation. Remember, the last time he contacted us, he was in the back of Biff's car. Further communications could cause suspicion on Biff's part." The tentacles nodded. "Right now, I just want to take the opportunity to rest for a bit. Jennifer! Pass those cookies!"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Saturday, November 12th

9:03 P.M.

_**Dead leaves here, dead leaves there, dead leaves, dead leaves everywhere! Dead leaf here, dead – MOUSE! Ew!**_

Tommy jerked away from the unfortunate creature he had just uncovered. _**I don't think we can use **_**that**_** in the flux capacitor.**_

_We probably could, actually, but let's not,_ Doc said with a shiver. Tommy nodded and covered the mouse with a few leaves.

_**There's not a lot of real garbage around here,**_ Jules noted, holding a bucket Doc had found while his brothers searched for trash. _**I'm not sure we'll be able to fill Mr. Fusion.**_

_Well, we don't necessarily have to fill it to the top. Even if we don't find anything more than dead leaves and some old matchsticks, the addition should be enough for a trip._

_**We hope,**_ Albert said, grumbling. _**How's Jennifer?**_

Doc glanced over at his sleeping companion. _Still out of it._ He sighed deeply. _I wish I hadn't taken them on this trip. Hell Valley will haunt my nightmares for years to come – and theirs too, I'm sure._

_**We can help you with that, if you like,**_ Verne reminded him.

_I know. I might take you up on that, if only to block any subconscious images of Einstein I might have gotten from your camera._ Verne chattered solemnly, shaking his claw.

_**I wouldn't be surprised if Jennifer never came back to our home after this,**_ Albert said, finding some remains of a newspaper and adding them to the bucket. _**We traumatized her for life.**_

_**Jennifer traumatized **_**herself**_**,**_ Jules argued. _**She's accepted full responsibility for this whole mess. Hopefully, she'll learn a valuable lesson from it. But I don't think she'll abandon us because of this.**_

_**You shouldn't talk like that anyway, Albert,**_ Verne added scoldingly. _**Father might think of destroying the DeLorean again.**_

_Let's not get into that whole argument,_ Doc thought quickly. _I'm not in the mood._

The walkie-talkie chose that moment to spring to life. "Doc! Doc, I'm in trouble! I blew it!"

Doc shot out of his seat in the DeLorean and grabbed the set. "What do you mean, blew it?" he demanded as the tentacles looked at each other, screeching. "Where's the book?"

"I don't know! Biff must still have it!" There was a crinkling sound from the other end. "All I've got is the damn cover!"

"Then where's Biff?!"

"I don't know!"

"Marty, the entire space-time continuum rests on you finding Biff and getting that book back!" Doc yelled, waving his arms wildly. _Great Scott, what else can go wrong today?_

"I _know_!" Marty yelled back, voice strained with deep frustration. Doc felt a brief wave of guilt for yelling at him. "I just don't--"

There was a sudden pause. Then Marty spoke again, now sounding almost thrilled. "Of _course_! Doc, I gotta go! I've got one chance – my old man's about to deck Biff!"

The transmission ceased. Doc stared at it for a moment, then set it on the hood of the car. "Well, at least he found Biff," he muttered. "Damn, I hope whatever plan he's got works. . . ."

_**Marty is resourceful,**_ Jules told him soothingly. _**I'm sure he will do everything in his power to make sure he gets the book.**_

_**I'm surprised Jennifer didn't wake up,**_ Verne said, investigating the sleeping girl. _**You nearly started screaming when you discovered Marty had just missed the almanac.**_

"She's probably exhausted." Doc checked his wristwatches. "No wonder – according to my right watch, it's 10:30 A.M. on May 18th, 1986. We've been out of our normal timestream for nearly 19 hours."

_**Wow,**_ Tommy said with a chitter. _**So we're all older by almost a day?**_

"Essentially, yes," Doc nodded. "And what a tumultuous day it has been."

_**Father, maybe you should join Jennifer in resting,**_ Jules said, clacking his pincers. _**Your one-hour nap seems woefully inadequate in light of this new information.**_

"You forget that we got a lot of rest during the eye operation," Doc reminded him. "Jennifer and Marty were awake during that entire time period. Besides, I won't be able to relax until Marty contacts me again." He fidgeted with his hat, then sighed. "Here, I'll help you look for garbage in the meantime."

_**Just beware of dead mice,**_ Tommy warned him. Doc smiled and began rooting through the leaves.

A few minutes later, Marty contacted them again, now sounding very pleased. "Success, Doc! I got it!"

Doc sighed in relief as the tentacles cheered. "At last!" He grabbed the set. "Great, Marty! As soon as we reload the Fusion generator, we'll meet you on the roof of the high school gym."

"10-4, Doc. I'll be waiting."

Marty signed off. Doc grinned as he opened up Mr. Fusion. "Great Scott, I can't wait for this nightmare to be over!"

_**Wait a moment, Father,**_ Jules suddenly said, presenting the bucket for unloading. _**What with all the excitement, we never managed to complete our repair job on the time circuits.**_

"That can wait until we've retrieved Marty," Doc told him. "We won't be time-traveling before then. I'll be careful to keep the time circuits off and our speed below 88 miles per hour." Jules nodded, though he still seemed a bit unsure. "Can one of you wake Jennifer?"

Albert volunteered, gently poking the teenager in the ribs. "Huh?" she muttered thickly.

"We're moving out," Doc told her, checking the level in the generator. Finding it a little low, he pulled off his hat and stuffed it inside. "Marty's got the book. We're going to pick him up from the high school gym."

"Terrific," Jennifer said, grinning as she stretched. "I can't wait to get home. We're not coming back too late, are we?"

"My plan is to go back to 1986 at 6:00, just to avoid any potential paradoxes from bumping into our previous selves arriving." Doc looked thoughtful. "Though I do wonder what would happen if two time machines crashed into each other while time traveling. . . ."

_**Let's not find out,**_ Albert said. _**We have enough to deal with.**_

"Right, right. Anyway, I'll do my best to have you home in time for supper."

"Good. I could use a shower too, especially after all that bike-riding."

"I know." Doc and the tentacles made sure all the equipment was functional, then got into the car. "I can't wait to get a proper night's sleep in my own bed myself." He activated the hover conversion and maneuvered the car into the air. "DeLoreans may have comfortable head rests, but they just don't--"

There was a bang as the undercarriage of the car hit something. "Damn!" Doc swore, changing gears. His elbow hit the time circuit activation handle, causing the display to flicker on. And sure enough, instead of reading 1955, it read 1885 again. _**You know, that's a really **_**stupid**_** place to have that handle,**_ Albert noted.

_**I'll take care of it,**_ Jules said, hitting the time circuits so they showed 1955 again. He then programmed in May 17th, 1986, 6:00 P.M. before shutting them back off. _**Hopefully it'll stick this time.**_

Doc didn't notice, still focused on getting the DeLorean properly into the air. Something was pulling on the car as he tried to leave, making it rock back and forth. "Come on, what the hell. . . ."

The DeLorean finally broke free from whatever it was, giving the passengers a slight jolt as it finally moved forward. "What was _that_ all about?" Jennifer asked, looking back.

"I must have hit the billboard," Doc admitted, blushing a bit. "You'd think I'd have the hang of flying after seven months."

_**We should have made you take another nap,**_ Verne said, chittering almost motherly.

"No, no, I'm fine. I can make it to the gym." He set off for the high school, bringing the DeLorean high so no one would notice it.

Halfway to their destination, the walkie-talkie came to life. "Shit! Somebody come in!"

Jennifer got the set. "Marty, what's up?"

"Biff's goons chased me into the gym, and they're gonna jump – me!"

"Well, get out of there then! I'm sure you can--"

"No, not me! The _other_ me! The one onstage playing 'Johnny B. Goode!'"

"Great Scott!" Doc gasped, grabbing the set with Verne. "Your other self will miss the lightning bolt at the Clock Tower, you won't get back to the future, and we'll have a major paradox!"

"A paradox?! You mean one of those things could destroy the universe?" Marty demanded.

"Yes! Marty, you have to stop those guys at all costs, but without being seen by your other self – or your parents!"

"10-4!" Marty replied, though he didn't sound very enthusiastic.

Jennifer let her head thunk against the back of the seat as her boyfriend signed off. "Ugh! Can't anything go right for us today?"

"You're friends with me, and you expect things to go well?" Doc said, trying to make a joke out of it. It got a faint, frustrated smile. "Seriously, I agree with you, but we can't do anything to influence the situation from here. Marty's a resourceful kid, and very fast on his feet. I'm sure he'll get out of this all right."

"God, I hope so."

The rest of the trip was blessedly uneventful. Marty reported he'd taken care of the bullies, to everyone's relief, and agreed to meet them once they landed. Minutes later, Doc set down on the gym roof. He and the tentacles promptly got out to see what had snagged the DeLorean before. Trailing from the back axle was a string of brightly-colored flags. "Aha! We must have torn them off the billboard," Doc said as the tentacles untangled them. "Just throw them into the back with the rest of the junk – we'll dispose of them later."

Marty's head and shoulders appeared at the edge of the roof. "Marty!" Jennifer said happily, hopping out of the car to greet him. "Do you – Marty?"

Marty was wheezing and clutching his stomach as he climbed over the edge. "I blew it," he admitted shamefacedly. "Biff nailed me and took the book back. He drove away with it in his car."

"What?! Not two minutes ago, you said everything was fine!" Jennifer exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I lost my temper," Marty said, getting his breath back. "Biff caught up with me once I left the gym. He started calling me names, and – I know I should have just walked away, but he was pissing me off, and all I could think of was my dad and that goddamned Pleasure Paradise --"

Doc looked like he wanted to smash his forehead into the DeLorean's hood. "Marty, we've been over this! If you let someone rile you up--"

"I know!" Marty yelled back. "But it wasn't your father stuck in the ground because of that asshole!"

_**Father, I suggest we wait on this particular argument,**_ Jules said as Doc prepared to retort. _**Biff's getting away with the Almanac as we speak!**_

"Right, Jules," Doc nodded. "Which way did he go, Marty?"

"East, toward the River Road Tunnel," Marty pointed.

"Then get in!"

Everyone piled into the car, Jennifer insisting Marty sit on her lap instead of the other way around. "So, what happened?" she asked as they lifted off. "I'm assuming Biff socked you in the gut."

"Kicked, actually. You see, he started calling me a chicken--" Doc made a disgusted noise "– I _know_, Doc – and when I turned to tell him off, BAM! Out comes my other self, smashing me in the face with the door. I bet Biff's expression was priceless – I couldn't see because of the stars in front of my eyes."

Despite his annoyance, Doc couldn't help a smile at the image that conjured up."Good thing he didn't go after your other self, though," he noted. "And it was while you were incapacitated that Biff retrieved the Almanac?"

"Yeah," Marty said. "Doc, I'm sorry, I really am. I should have gotten out of there sooner."

Jennifer shook her head. "It's all my stupid fault anyway. If I hadn't bought the book in the first place, we wouldn't even be here."

Doc sighed deeply. "Let's not get into the blame game again. I really do appreciate everything you went through to get the Almanac, Marty. I just wish you weren't so susceptible to people calling you names."

"I'm getting better, really," Marty swore, holding up a hand. "It's just that I was pissed off at Biff already, and the whole 'chicken' thing was the last straw."

Doc nodded. "I suppose I can understand that. Apology accepted, Marty. Now let's focus our energies on finding Biff."

After a few minutes of searching, they caught sight of Biff's Ford, speeding along River Road. Marty took a look at it with his binoculars while the tentacles magnified it for Doc. "There he is!" Marty confirmed with the tentacles. "And the Almanac's in the back seat! Let's land on him, we'll cripple his car."

"Marty, he's in a '46 Ford, we're in a DeLorean. He'd rip through us like we were tinfoil."

"So what do we do?"

To Marty's surprise, the tentacles reached around to the front and popped open the hood. Tommy emerged with Marty's sneaked hoverboard. Doc smiled. "I have a plan. . . ."

A minute later, everyone was ready. Doc quietly brought the DeLorean down to hover at street level behind Biff. Marty opened the passenger door, strapped the hoverboard to his foot, kissed Jennifer for good luck, then got out of the DeLorean and pulled himself along the side. Doc and Jennifer looked on nervously as Marty inched toward Biff's bumper.

Finally, the teen hovered forward and managed to grab hold. Biff seemed to hear the noise, but shrugged it off and went back to driving. Marty smiled and gave his friends a thumbs up. Doc returned it, while Jennifer blew him another kiss. Then Doc brought them back up, leaving Marty to get the Almanac.

Once they were back above the scene, Doc handed the binoculars to Jennifer. "Here. The kids can use their zoom to keep me abreast of the situation, but I'm sure you'd want to see for yourself."

"Thanks, Doc." Jennifer glanced down, squeezing her hands together. "Ooh, I hope he manages to grab that book."

"Me too," Doc said, putting the DeLorean in a different gear. "Damn it, he had it too. Damn that 'chicken' problem of his. . . ."

_**Father! You turned the time circuits on shifting again!**_ Jules said, pointing to the lighted display.

_**Oh, leave them on!**_Albert grumped. _**They're showing the correct time, so who cares anymore? Let's focus on Marty.**_

The tentacles turned their attention earthward. Down below, they could see Marty's form open the back door of the Ford. Just as he was about to grab the book, though, Biff reached back and picked it up. "Shit," Doc grumbled. "Why did he have to take it _now_?"

_**Maybe the radio is broadcasting sports scores,**_ Tommy said, turning on theirs. Sure enough, the announcer was listing off the college football scores of the day. _**Poor Marty, this just makes things harder.**_

Jennifer absently shut the radio back off, eyes still riveted to the scene below. "Biff just put the book back down on the front seat. Marty's going for it. . .come on, sweetheart. . .almost – CRAP! Biff saw him!"

"I know!" Doc gasped, seeing Marty and Biff start playing tug-of-war with the book via tentacle. The Ford began weaving all over the road as Biff attempted to both drive and fend off Marty. Finally, the older teen kicked the passenger door open, forcing Marty to release the Almanac. However, the action caused Biff to lose his grip as well. The Almanac soared into the air. _**Fly away!**_ the tentacles yelled at it. _**Fly far away and never, ever be found!**_

The Almanac, unfortunately, chose to land on the car windshield instead. Biff, unable to get at it at the moment, chose to focus on getting Marty off his car. He began driving even more erratically, nearly forcing Marty into a guardrail. Marty, however, didn't give up, hanging on as tightly as he could to the passenger door. _**Come on, Marty!**_ Tommy cheered him on. _**Show that jerk what you're made of!**_

_**Hey, where's the tunnel that's supposed to be on this road?**_ Verne asked suddenly. _**It seems we've driven an awful long way without encountering it.**_

_**It's – RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!**_ Jules screamed, seeing the concrete structure coming up fast. _**And Marty doesn't realize! Biff's going to wipe him off the side like a bug!**_

"Great Scott!" Doc yelled. "Jennifer, where's the walkie-talkie?!"

But it was too late. Marty realized what Biff was trying to do just seconds before impact, and released the door. He grabbed the bumper again as Biff streaked inside, scraping the side of his car against the wall. Moments later, both teens vanished from sight.

Jennifer collapsed back into her seat, breathing heavily. "Oh my God," she said, voice higher than usual. "He – he could – he could have died. . . ."

Doc wiped the sweat from his face. "Good thing he realized what was going to happen. If – if Biff had succeeded. . . ." He couldn't go on.

_**We could have gone back and prevented it,**_ Jules reminded him, though the tentacle sounded fairly stunned too.

"I know, but still. . . ." Doc took a deep, steadying breath. "Let's go wait for him on the other side."

_**Are we sure he'll come out on the other side?**_ Albert said. _**It's possible he could let go of Biff's car and come out this end. I'd give it 50/50 myself. Or, more accurately, 51/49, with the 51 favoring whichever side we don't pick. Can't forget our **_**wonderful**_** streak of luck.**_

Doc began circling over the tunnel. "Whichever side he comes out of, let's be ready to get him out of there fast. Tommy, do you think you could grab Marty if I lowered the DeLorean a bit?"

Tommy tried it, extending himself to his limit and stretching out his inner tentacle. _**I think so,**_ he said. _**I'm not 100% positive. Maybe 97.3%.**_

_**Can't you just swoop down and pick him up?**_ Jules asked.

"I'd really prefer as few people as possible see the DeLorean. The road's empty now, but you know that as soon as we get down. . . . And if Biff gets a clear view of my face, he would no doubt make life hard for my younger self." Jules nodded, chattering in annoyance.

_**The pendants!**_ Verne said suddenly, grabbing the ball of flags from the back. _**You could hold these for Marty to grab, then haul him up!**_

"Good idea!" Doc praised the tentacle, patting it. "Now we just have to wait for Marty to come out."

They continued circling for a minute or two, watching as a big fertilizer truck – no doubt D. Jones's Manure Hauling – went through the tunnel. For some reason, the driver stopped on the other side and got out. _**What's he – oh, ew!**_ Jules said, as the man headed for some bushes. _**You couldn't hold it?**_

_Boys, let's not watch!_

As the driver finished his business and prepared to leave, Marty appeared behind him, at the mouth of the tunnel. "Here he is!" Jennifer reported. "Ready, Tommy?"

_**Ready!**_ Tommy replied, holding the string of pendants in his claw. He stretched out over Jennifer and dropped it right in front of the teen as he emerged. Marty, looking utterly exhausted, grabbed it and held on tight. "Thanks," he wheezed. "Go, Doc!"

"Hold on, Marty!" Doc called back, bringing the DeLorean up.

As they ascended, Biff's car appeared, racing down the road. It didn't take a genius to guess he had been trying to run Marty down. He gawked at the DeLorean as it passed over him, looking utterly gobsmacked.

This changed to horror as he realized he was on a direct collision course with the slow-moving manure truck. "_SHIT!_"

Biff yanked desperately on the wheel, trying to avoid his fate. All he ended up doing was turning his car sideways as he smashed into the truck. And, as it had just a few days earlier, the load dumped into the Ford, burying Biff.

"Yes!" Marty yelled, laughing. Jennifer clapped and cheered. Doc and the tentacles, laughing themselves, flew them all off before anyone else could see them. Biff's final shout followed them.

"MANURE! I HATE MANURE!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Saturday, November 12th

9:37 P.M.

The tentacles helped Marty back into the car as they flew back to Lyon Estates. "Are you all right?" Jennifer asked, checking him over as he settled onto her lap.

"Exhausted and sore," Marty admitted. Then he smiled and pulled the Almanac out of his jacket. "But, frankly, I've never been better."

"Yes! Mission accomplished!" Doc said happily as Jennifer and the tentacles hugged Marty. "We'll burn it once we've returned to Lyon Estates – we can use my trash bucket as a safe container for the flames."

"Burn it?" Jennifer said, surprised. "I thought we could just rip it up or something."

"Best to destroy it completely, I say," Doc replied. "I don't want to chance anyone getting their hands on any little bit." Jennifer nodded, understanding. "Then you two can rest and get some food into your systems while the tentacles and I complete the repairs on the DeLorean."

Marty blinked. "You mean you haven't found that short yet? What have you been doing all this time?"

"We tried, Marty – it's a tricky little gremlin. Not to mention we had to take some considerable time off to fail to rescue you."

Marty smirked. "Yeah, what happened there?"

"We kept getting lost," Jennifer admitted. "Farmer Peabody chased us in the wrong direction, then we kept trying to get on streets that haven't been built yet."

"Jesus! Peabody didn't hurt you guys, did he?"

"Nope – we managed to send him on a wild goose chase," Doc reassured the teen. "The short of it is, we haven't really had the time to track down what's wrong with the display."

Marty looked at it. "Seems to be working okay now."

"Yes, but I want to make sure it stays that way."

"Oh, hell yeah."

The wind began to pick up as they got closer to Lyon Estates. The DeLorean started to rock a little. "Can we land? I'm feeling a bit queasy here," Jennifer said, turning pale.

"I'm trying," Doc said, scowling at the steering wheel. "It really is miserable flying weather. I think I'm going to have to circle around and make a long approach from the south." He began turning the car around.

"This really _was_ a bad storm," Marty noted. "I was starting to think it was all hype. I mean, the lightning was spectacular, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't even raining when I left before."

"The rain came later – and trust me, it was heavy. I barely outran it back to my house." Doc was forced to turn back the other way as a strong gust hit the car. "Damn it! What else is going to go wrong?!"

_**NO! Father, don't say that!**_ Albert cried.

But the damage had been done. Right on cue, the time circuits began flickering back to January 1st, 1885. Jules began smacking them with his claw. _**Oh, no you don't! Change! Change!**_

They did change – to July 4th, 1776. _**I think you'll have to be more specific with your directive, Jules,**_ Verne said.

"Hit it harder," Marty suggested, looking just as frustrated as Doc and the tentacles felt.

Jules tried. For one brief moment, the correct date appeared. Then it changed back to 1885, then to 1776. Another hit scrambled the dates together, making it July 4th, 1885. The tentacle hissed. _**Where the hell is that short? Once we land, Father, we're probably going to have to take–**_

A lightning bolt suddenly streaked out of the sky, searing the branch off of a nearby tree. "Holy SHIT!" Marty yelled.

"Aaacck!" Jennifer yelped, grabbing Marty's arm. "Doc, you'd better get us on the ground right away!"

"I'm doing my best!" Doc said, battling the wind for control. "That was too close for comfort!"

"Yeah, the last thing we want is to be struck by--"

KAPOW!

The world outside suddenly went brilliant white. The passengers screamed as the DeLorean began to spin. There was a flash of yellow light from the back, a sonic boom –

And, just like that, it was all over. The human passengers caught their breaths while the tentacles glanced around, making sure no one was hurt. "Lightning," Marty finished. "Oh, this is _heavy_. . . ."

"You had to say it," Jennifer said, looking out into the now-clear night sky. "Where – or when – are we?"

Before anyone could answer, though, a loud alarm sounded. "Your hover conversion system has been rendered inoperable," a robotic voice informed them. "Emergency landing procedures will be initiated immediately. Please do not attempt to fly the car after you have landed. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice – _are you for real_?!" Marty yelled at the DeLorean as it began to slowly lower to the ground.

"Not really, it's a computer," Jennifer pointed out.

_**The DeLorean **_**can**_** talk! You can't kill it now!**_ Tommy told Doc, screeching in triumph.

"That's not the DeLorean, that's just--"

With no warning, the car went into freefall. Jennifer screamed again. "What the hell?!"

"Damn! The backup circuits must have failed!" Doc yelled.

"But they were working fine just five seconds ago!"

"I don't pretend to understand it myself! Jules, see if you can do anything to force the circuits to work! The rest of you, seatbelt duty!"

_**Got it!**_ Jules plugged into the DeLorean's systems and started work while the others wrapped themselves tightly around Doc, Marty, and Jennifer. "Hang on, everyone," Doc whispered.

Just scant feet from the ground, Jules managed to reroute some of the power supply long enough for the backup circuits to reactivate. The DeLorean shuddered in midair for a moment, then landed gently on the ground. Marty let out the breath he'd been holding. "Whew. Thanks, Jules."

Jules nodded and chittered as his brothers untangled themselves. _**You were right, Father. Much of the hover conversion wiring was fried by the lightning, and what was remaining couldn't adequately handle the load. We'll have to have a new system installed later.**_

"I'm more worried about the rest of the car," Doc said, opening his door. "If the wrong thing got damaged. . . ."

"Oh, Jesus, Doc, don't go there," Marty said, going white.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, the DeLorean's been struck by lightning before," Jennifer began, obviously not wanting to believe anything was really wrong.

"That was lightning channeled along a specific path directly into the flux capacitor," Doc said, cutting her off before she could get too far with her theory. "What we just experienced was an untamed release of energy throughout the whole frame of the car. As you just saw, it already damaged the hover conversion beyond repair – which, unfortunately for us, means other parts may be damaged as well." He got out of the car. "I'll do a visual inspection. Jules, you tap back into the circuitry and see what you can find."

_**I'm on it.**_ Jules plugged in again while Doc and the other three tentacles circled the car, examining every part.

The teens also got out, not wanting to stay stuffed in the DeLorean for too long. Desert stretched out around them, with patches of grass here and there to break up the monotony of the sand. More stars then any of them had ever seen filled the sky. "Well, at least it's a pretty when," Jennifer said, admiring the view.

A burst of colored light appeared, starting the teens. "What the – fireworks? Who's shooting up fireworks?"

Marty checked the time circuit display again. "Guess someone's celebrating the date early," he said. "The time circuits read July 4th, 1885, mid – um, Doc?"

"What?" Doc asked, not liking the teen's tone.

"The display just flashed all zeros, then went dark. That's not good, is it?"

Doc winced. "No. Hopefully it's just some lights shorting out." He finished his inspection. "Well, the car looks fine from the outside. Jules, what's the internal report?"

_**Everything appears to be operational in one form or another – except for one thing.**_ There was a lengthy pause. Then Jules drooped. _**I can't access the time circuit control microchip.**_

The bottom dropped out of Doc's stomach. "Oh no. . . ."

"What?" Marty demanded, yanking his head out of the car so fast he accidentally hit it on the frame. "Ouch! Goddamnit. . . ."

"The time circuit control chip was our other casualty of the lightning strike," Doc admitted, voice low. "Without that, the DeLorean can't open the necessary wormhole to travel through time. That's why the time circuit display went dark – it stopped receiving input." Doc waved his hands. "Simply put, we're stuck."

"_Stuck_?!"

"No! No, we can't be stuck," Jennifer said, shaking her head. "Test it. Get the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour. Even if the stupid display doesn't work, that should!"

"Jennifer, Jules's readings--"

"_Please_," she begged, hands clasped in front of her.

Doc sighed deeply. "All right, if that's what it takes to convince you. Get in."

The group piled back into the car. Doc turned on the ignition and hit the gas. The car moved forward a few feet – then stopped, the engine growling ineffectually. "_Now_ what?" Doc demanded, scowling.

"Sounds like its on empty, Doc," Marty said.

_**We agree,**_ Jules nodded. _**When did you last fill the gas tank?**_

"May 7th, 1986," Doc said. "It was half-full when we left."

_**Yes, but we've been doing a lot of driving since then – changing time periods, getting Marty, chasing Biff. . . . And I don't think having to fight the wind in 1955 helped either,**_ Verne pointed out.

"Great Scott, you're right. That would use up more gas. And if we were low to begin with. . . ."

Jennifer looked like she wanted to either cry or strangle something. "So the time circuits don't work _and_ we're out of gas?! How can three people – and four tentacles – be so unlucky?!"

"I don't know," Doc said, leaning on the steering wheel. "But the fact remains that we are. And now, it appears we may be stuck in 1885 permanently."

"_Perman_ – oh, _hell_ no," Marty said, running a hand through his hair. "Our lives are back in 1986! We can't be stuck here! There's gotta be something you can do!"

"I wish there was," Doc sighed. "I could conquer the problem of getting the car up to 88 miles per hour with a little time. But suitable replacement parts for the microchip won't be invented until 1947. I'd have to start completely from scratch on a new time travel design that would work on current technology. And doing that, even if I used the DeLorean as a base, would take _years_."

"Like 30?" Jennifer squeaked.

"Possibly."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Tommy curled around to face Doc, chittering softly. _**You – you could always disassemble us and try–**_

"NO!" Doc gasped, startling Marty and Jennifer. "You're my children! I love you!"

_**But we have future technology! We could get you, Marty, and Jennifer back home!**_ Jules protested.

"Absolutely not," Doc said. "I'd – I'd go crazy if I couldn't hear your voices anymore. . . ."

"Are they telling you to dissect them?" Jennifer asked, eyes widening.

"They are. They think I should use the future technology in them to repair the car." Doc shook his head. "Killing them is not an option I can consider, though."

Marty suddenly snapped his fingers and grabbed something off the floor. "Doc, what about this?" he asked, holding out his hoverboard. "I certainly can't use it back here."

Doc looked at it. Slowly, some of the spark came back into his eyes. "Yes – yes, this could work!" he cried, grabbing the toy. "I could try and repurpose this! Probably only be good for one trip, but that's all we'd need! Kids, you could help me with this, correct?"

_**Of course! We will do everything in our power to assist you,**_ the tentacles chorused.

_**We want to get home too,**_ Albert added. _**1885 is no place for anything like us to live!**_

"I know." Doc looked around, frowning. "I'll need tools, though. I have a few in the back for emergencies, of course, but what I really need is a workshop."

"Maybe somebody around here will lend us their barn or something," Jennifer said.

"Hmmm. I'd prefer to avoid human contact, but I don't think we have a choice. We can spend the night here with the DeLorean, then tomorrow we'll head into town and see." Doc reopened the doors. "Jennifer, you get the snacks we picked up – the kids and I will try to find some items for a fire."

"No need, Doc," Marty said, holding up both the Almanac and the Pleasure Paradise matchbook he had taken. "I say we celebrate the Fourth of July early too."

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the fire pit Doc and the tentacles had dug. Marty dropped the Almanac inside, then lit a match and dropped that in too. The Almanac caught the flame quickly, and was soon ablaze. Marty let out a loud sigh. "Well, at least that part's over," he said, looking absently at the matchbook. "Heh, setting it on fire with this probably rates at least an eight on the irony scale. . . ."

His eyes suddenly went wide. "Holy shit!"

"Marty?" Doc asked, concerned. "Did something happen?"

Marty looked up, now smiling. "Yup," he said, showing them the matchbook. The front still had the Biff's logo – but the back now read "Auto Detailing."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed that. Then there was a scramble for the DeLorean to retrieve their "borrowed" newspapers. Marty yanked his out and looked at it eagerly. Sure enough, the headline had now changed from "GEORGE MCFLY MURDERED" to "GEORGE MCFLY HONORED." "Yes! YES! Doc, my father's alive!"

"We know, Marty!" Doc said, staring at his own paper with glee. His headline now properly read "EMMETT BROWN COMMENDED," not "COMMITTED." "Oh, it's good to see myself _not_ in a straitjacket. . . ."

_**So Einstein's okay again? Everything's back to normal?**_ Tommy asked, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"That's right!" Doc said, pulling the tentacles and teenagers into a hug. "It's the ripple effect! Our future is back to the way it should be!"

"Now we just have to get there," Jennifer pointed out.

Doc smiled at her and squeezed. "Don't worry. We'll get back to the future. I promise."

The End


End file.
